CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - 3 Hours of SCARY r/nosleep Horror Stories to grind your dreams to dust

Episode Date: November 16, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORIES-►0:00 "An Exploration into Liminal Spaces" Creepypasta►30:01 "My pet bunny is obsessed with eating glass" Creepypasta►48:30 "I uncovered something serious on Hart Island. Please tell the media" Creepypasta►1:12:00 "I was Going to Die for Being a Late Bloomer" Creepypasta►1:35:26 "There's a fleshpit in the middle of the desert" Creepypasta►1:51:23 "A Cave Diver's Worst Nightmare" Creepypasta►2:26:16 "Something Stalks the Old Roads of Montana" CreepypastaCreepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...CREEPY THUMBNAIL ART BY►Peter Ocampo: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/EL...SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7YCb...►"Personal Favourites"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEa2R...►"Written by me"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX6RA...►"Long Stories"- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list...FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter: https://twitter.com/Creeps_McPasta►Instagram: https://instagram.com/creepsmcpasta/►Twitch: http://www.twitch.tv/creepsmcpasta►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CreepsMcPastaCREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪-This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only-

If you have some time, please allow yourself to look at these images. Let them wash over you and take a moment to consider how they make you feel. These are liminal spaces. A liminal space can be defined as the physical spaces between one destination and the next. Different for us all, but always vaguely familiar, yet foreign. They are the bridges between the world that we know and the plains. beyond, beyond and between. An airport after dark, perhaps.

Picture it in your mind's eye. The escalators have been switched off and the restaurants are shuttered away. Your footsteps make gentle clags against the cold ground as you walk. Soft lights blink in the distance and beyond the thick glass of the wide windows is nothing, only black.

Consider an arcade, glistening in the gloom, the colors of the game's flashed right, but you do not recognise a single one. There are no people, and there is no sound. There are no windows here either. Not this time. Only doors.

Only simply patterned wallpaper and there are endless labyrinth walls. Step into your school in the shadows of night. The corridors are empty, and they are longer than you remember them being. The layout is not quite right to realize. There are staircases and places there shouldn't be. The electrics are all turned off, but there's an impossible level of light that hangs thick and heavy in the air all the same. They number in their thousands of these places, and the other gateways. I am sure of this now.

We've all seen them, we've passed them by, we've tight-rewarded the threshold in our dreams, the backward shadows, the other sides, and the twisted lines that run between the gaps. There is one in particular that always rests in the back of my own mind. It comes to me in my dreams, this space. I think on it between the findings and my obsessive explorations, my research. It comes to me, bizarrely, as a gift shop. The dreams very little. I am always a child again as I wonder the gift shop's aisles, wide-eyed and staring.

The shelves tower up to the eye. artificial light to the indiscernible ceiling above. They stretch out far in all directions. They are full of toys from my childhood. Things I wanted but could either never afford or could never find. Some of these objects around me do not actually exist. When I wake, I struggle to remember precisely what they were, only that they were precious, mystical even.

And there is never enough time. Never enough time to see it all. and of course I can never take anything back with me I never see doors for an exit or an entrance for that matter but I know there is one I know it inherently

this place exists somewhere I'm sure of it and part of me will always long to know where it would lead where I to pass through its elusive exit doors I rub a hand across my forehead as the winds blow cold across the evening fields

clouds rumbled softly overhead they gather in the sky as they do my mind and I look to her to Evangeline There were lots of us at the beginning And now there is only her and I I love you she says I love you too

I reply Everything's going to be okay She says as I hold her in my hands A smile dances in her eye And I return a quick sad smile of my own sure i say as the wind shivers across my skin the field we find ourselves in is now one of many the wheat comes up to my knees and stretches out far in most directions

in the distance so i left is a line of shadowed trees up ahead are a series of low hills rising steadily to mountains as they grow this is where we're going now if i can just some of the will to keep on going Not just yet, just a minute or two, I just need a minute. I sit down with Evangeline amongst the wheat with a weary sigh. Do you remember? I begin softly, reminiscing for its own sake. When we first set out on our own and away from the group,

we were only taking a detour, just a quick change of plans, but it took us a whole week to find them again. Do you remember? She grinned at me, and I kid. Keep talking. The night we found our first liminal space as a duo and the monster inside. I can picture it as clearly as if it were yesterday. Allow me, if you would, to try and paint it for you with words. And please forgive my disoriented narrative. It flows as the thoughts come to me. I can only apologize. So, picture this place, listener, and picture it well.

Donald's restaurant, long abandoned, sits alone out there in the desert. It squats in an ever-present, sickly warmth, and the road is empty of cars as we approach, Evangeline and I. Our team is, for now, scattered, and they are not central to this story. I carry with me a journal of my interactions with the people and places. Monsters and mayhem are the liminal spaces we have found so far. They are pieces of a much larger and much greater puzzle. and our work continues.

The trail has led us here to the outskirts of civilization. I'm not sure about this, Evangeline mutters in a low voice upon our approach. This one feels different to the others. It is, I reply, my dusty coat blowing out behind us as we walk. This one wants to be found. Can you sense it? Yes, she says after a beat. I can.

She laughs nervously And I don't like it We've got this I say as I nudger's shoulder We approach the dark and empty restaurant Graffiti More artistic than most Has been painted in black and white

On the wall by the door It depicts a crying young boy Trapped in a cage And I grimace with unease Come on Evangeline whispers as she turns to me I thought you were the one supposed to be encouraging me.

I nod her half-smile. Same procedure as always. Don't look through the windows once you're inside. Don't break the spell, I finished. And sugar out my hand. I squeeze it tight, then lead the way, pushing through the doors and stepping into the restaurant's deserted, gloomy lobby. The walls are decorated with McDonald's cartoon characters from the early 2000s.

The ones they don't really use anymore. In the corner stands a video game. Control is plugged and fixed into long-dead screens embedded in the wall. I am careful not to look directly through any of the building's windows. For now, the desert outside is invisible. We see only reflective darkness in the glass from the corners of her eyes. Evangeline steps to the right and examines the seating area. I head toward the counter, shining the beam of my electric torch over the cast registers,

across the menus above my head. It doesn't take long before we find what we're looking for. It's here, Evangeline says from around the corner, and, after a brief but sudden spiking nerves, I follow a voice to get a good look at what she is found. Nothing particularly out of the ordinary so far. Physically is a simple staircase leading down into a basement, to further seating, perhaps,

bathrooms, employ only areas, whatever, but we can both feel the energy from these stairs rising up from beneath. I cannot tell if I detect a soft frumbling at the edge of my hearing, or if it's simply my imagination. Here we go then, I mutter. I scratch at my jaw and step forward and onto the stairs, steadily descending down into the darkness below. Down, down, down.

The level below is just as I expected, Three doors for bathrooms and an employee's only storeroom. I would be inclined to try these doors, if not for the fact that there is another set of stairs at the opposite end of this narrow corridor we find ourselves in. And this one does not look like it leads into further darkness at all. In fact, a faint but very visible light glows from the steps, and I realize that this is where we need to head. Not through any doors. not this time, but a little further down. So across the corridor we go,

shoes tapping on the hardwood floor and down the next set of stairs. The light gets brighter. This is creepy as hell, Evangeline murmurs, clicking off the beam for a light as it is no longer needed. I do the same. It is not a welcoming light that we step into. No burst of daylight for the explosion. is freed from the cave, nor the first rays of warning.

The light down here is clinical. It creates a sense of timelessness and disorientation, and I blink a little as we arrive on the lowmost floor. The corridor is narrow and short. There is an open arch in the wall to our left, and an open arch in the wall to our right. Overhead, and it would seem in the rooms, the source of the light comes from faintly pulsing beams that run the lengths of the ceiling. The room to my left is a party room of sorts. There are colourful tables and chairs, mostly in red and yellows, that match the walls,

and the walls themselves are adorned with simple geometric patterns. It's the sort of place you could have a kid's party. Balloons litter the floor. Whoa, Evangeline whispers aloud, and I turn to follow a gaze into the room on the right. This will be it then, I say, under by the bottom. breath, scanning a cautious eye across and over their scene ahead. It's less of a room in truth than a great and endless hall. The walls are impossibly far apart and they extend far off into the distance.

There is no hardwood floor here, only old faded blue carpets. The Georgians play zone billows up from the ground, maybe 30 or so meters ahead, and it's unlike anything I've ever seen. You know what I mean when I say play zone. don't you? An indoor play area. Your country probably has its own name for it. Slides, ball pits, colourful, foam padded tunnels and climbable netting. But this thing, this thing that lies ahead, is monstrous. As much as physically possible has been packed and crammed and twisted into the limited available space. Tunnels wind around the edges of the wall near

the ceiling. Ball pits the size of actual halls, all larger, stretch out into the shadows cast by the colourful pillars and interwoven passages. I cannot see the complex in its entirety and have no idea how far back it might go. It also gives off the impression that it extends up higher than the ceiling shows. Between the entrance to the complex and our current position by the door is very little. There is a smattering of tables and chairs, but not much else. And all of a sudden, I feel incredibly. incredibly small.

This sense of smallness is bolstered by a new surety that these tables and chairs are larger than they should be, in practically so, creating the illusion that we have lost size upon our arrival. Something clanks and words from the shadows of the complex, and the echo dances down the walls towards us. This is one of the worst, Evangeline says.

This feeling, it isn't usually this bad, not soon after arrival. I know, a reply as I start walking the length of the room. Do your best. We learn what we can and get out. We'll log it and map it with the others. Right, she says, and she falls in step alongside me. You pass by the tables and the oversized chairs.

And the complex draws nearer. Nearer and nearer. There are several ways in, so to speak. multiple colourful yet dark tunnels that lead away into the unknown round twisted corners and past warped funhouse-style mirrors we opt for the one directly ahead and as we step foot over the threshold the sound of the rumbling grows just a little louder

and more present we look at each other of angelina and I then with hearts bounding we set on into the shadows of the complex to what we can find as we walk we mark the foam-cladded pillars we pass with chalk crosses, quick scrollings that will help us on a way back, should we need them. I don't fail to notice that Evangeline and I seem to be able to struggle the Funhouse corridors with relative ease, despite the fact that by appearance it looks clearly designed for children and should really be a great deal smaller. We crossed the faded foam bridge that spans the wide pool of colourful plastic balls,

and as we do so, I struggle with this. sensation, there is something down there, something lurking beneath us in the shadows, unseen and watching, waiting perhaps. I wonder idly how deep down the pool goes, how many thousands of colourful balls there are between the bridge and the bottom. A twisted thought creeps unwanted into my head, that the balls never end, well perhaps that they eventually give way to some icy, dark and unforgiving water below, an abyss hidden beneath the plastic. I shiver with second and cold and press on, checking on Evangeline with a quick glance. Tunnels wind off to our left and right as we make a way deeper into the complex.

We ascend up a series of phone steps to a level above and push past great sweeps of climbable netting. Less light reaches us in here, and Evangeline switches on a torch. I make the decision to keep mine off for now. We ascend another level and look out over the gap in the platforms ahead. The pillars and bridges and tunnels give way to reveal a series of slides, some red, some yellow and one blue, tunnels full of hungry darkness. Evangeline casts the light across the nearest one

and tries to use the beam to follow the tunnel's spiring path down through the netting in various apparatus of the complex. I adjust the color of my shirt. The sense of claustrophobia grows stronger as we have further inside. And whilst you might think that we are mad for what we are doing, listener, you must understand the desperate need to know to find out once and for all what it is that connects these impossible places. For there must be something.

There must be. They are all unique in their own bizarre and curious ways. But the similarities and general rules are too close for coincidence. We are all explorers at heart, and once you've explored your first true liminal space, the need to know how and the need to know why, do nothing but grow stronger and stronger and stronger. The blue one doesn't go anywhere, Evangeline mutters. I follow the beam of a light with my eyes. What do you mean?

I can tell where the red and yellow one slides go roughly. Two of them finishing the ball pit down there. Two of them wind around and head off into the shadows on the other side, but the blue one, you see, it gets lost in the pillars and the tunnel just disappears. It doesn't lead to anywhere at all. It'll lead to somewhere, I think. Just perhaps not somewhere we can understand.

We both swivel on the spot, to the sudden sound of children's laughter. Damn. Hello? I call at once, Who's there? But the echoey laughter from the gloom only shivers around and around.

Evangeline is a trick. It must be. Something is creating an auditory. I cut myself off mid-sentence as I turn to realize that Evangeline is gone. She has vanished. No, I shout out,

turning this way and that. Evangeline! Something rumbles in the darkness. The first of my face. when the padding becomes warmer. I can feel the heat radiating off of them as I stumble round the edge of a corner and race across a narrow bridge.

One that travels high above the sinister ball pit far below. She can't have gone far. A bubble of panic rises up my spine as I consider the blue slide. The slide that leads to nowhere. She wouldn't, would she? Go down?

No, she'd never. Up ahead is another great slide. not a tunnel though this one far wider too it starts the level above and drops down into the darkness down down far below the floor of the complex should go I realize I have no true way of knowing how massive this place might be how high up it climbs and how deep it descends the slide is slick and shiny red like a great yawning tongue

and even as I think this the slide curls in and his edges as if it were made of water. The foam-clad posts and pillars of the complex around the slide contort and isolate, yet burning yellow lights shine down at me through the netting from faraway shadows. Come and play, lonely wanderer. It says to me in a voice like the rumbling trawl of a nightmare. I freeze, every muscle at once tensed in utter horror. Where will this dream take you?

It asks as my mouth. drains dry. You struggle to remember, but you have not forgotten entirely. I cannot look away. I cannot run. I have always been there for you. And you have found me. Evangeline. Evangeline is out here somewhere. I terror in my gaze and turned from the mouth of the monster. I push its words from my head before they have a chance to sink into my conscience. Evangeline, I call out, please. Evangeline told me later what it was that had happened. She hadn't taken the blue slide, but she had heard something that I did not.

Behind the laughter and there whispered giggles of the children in the darkness. She heard sobbing. I plead for help from the very same source of the laughter. She saw a shadow at the end of the corridor reaching out for her, and she made the gamble to go after it. She called out to me, she said, told me to follow. But for one reason or another, I did not hear her. A trick of the complex, perhaps, or maybe even a dangerous preoccupation of my own mind.

But she raced down that corridor and rounded the corner, up another quick series of colorful, phone-padded steps, and there, in a small, soft wall room, she found no laughing children, only terrified ones. Two girls and a boy huddled together. in the corner, dark shadows beneath their eyes and shaking in fear. The only decoration in the little room was a clear plastic half-bubble built into the wall, a window of sorts into the view beyond. A quick glance through it revealed its view. A variable sea of ball-pit balls, way below, softly churning and frothing like waves

against the pillars of the complex, disappearing away into gradual darkness. It's okay, Evangeline said to them, holding out her hand. We're going to get you out. You can be safe again, I promise. I wanted to play, the boy whispers. I wanted to stay forever. He starts to cry. I'm so sorry.

It's okay, Evangeling replies, a lump rising in the throat. It's okay, but take my hand all right. We're going to get out. And so he does. The girl grabs hold of Evangeline's shirt. They stick as close her as they can as she retraces her steps. The complex to a dismay has changed. The corridors are not as they were.

But the chalk markings are still quite visible, even if the locations have changed. She follows them back. And that's where she finds me, calling out for her in the chaos. I stare at the children, but she only races right past. Come on, she shouts, following the little marks of chalk in her return.

Right, I reply, sprinting ahead and round the corner to face the mouth of the beast. It rumbles hungrily from the shadows, into which the great slight slopes down. You are children of mine. You always will be, and you do not wish to leave. The words race round around the walls like a wind. As Evangeline staggers to a stop, staring wide-eyed at the monster with a children in tow. Go, I shout to her, grabbing a shoulder. Don't let its words into your head. I turn back to the monster.

You're weak, I tell it with an accusatory finger, handshaking. Can't even keep a grip on a group of children. You are never truly free. You will always remember me for a long time. Wherever you go. Evangeline and the three children disappear from sight. I struggle with my fears, but do my best to hold attention of the monster

for just another moment longer. What are you? I whisper. You know what I am, the thing replies. And with effort, I turn my back on it and flee from my life through the complex, through the beating walls of the monster, following the markings of chalk round corner after corner,

and down step after step. The level of light changes as I run, and I can see it. I can see the way out, back towards the hall with his primary colours and oversized tables and chairs. Evangeline is ahead with the children. She is safe, and as I reach the edges of the complex, something brings me to a gentle stop. My paws, chest rising and falling, and turned to look back at the world within, at the colourful shadows. Thinking, considering. Answers lie at my center.

The complex murmurs to me as the world slows down all around. I can tell you, explorer, where to find the gift shop. My heart rate quickens, my dream. I know what it means, and I know where it leads. it whispers, it tempts, and I consider returning. Only briefly, I swear, but I consider what would happen were I to go back into the complex for just a little longer. It's not until I feel Evangeline's grip on my arm that I turn in bewilderment.

She stares into my eyes, and I know that I have to leave. So, leave we do. Without turning back, we sprint the length of the hall with the, the children. We send the flights of stairs and through the abandoned McDonald's and out into the warmth of the desert night, panting and sweating. But damn, the outside air had never tasted so good. You idiot, Evangeline grunts once we've caught our breath, smacking me lightly across the arm. What made you stop? Huh? I don't know, Evangeline, I reply. I just, I don't know. I know, she says, folding her arms. still getting a breath back. Answers, you would give everything up for the sake of your curiosity.

And I get it. I really do. I'm here with you, aren't I? We're together exploring all these awe-inspiring, all these terrifying places, but you can't let yourself get consumed. Not ever. She looks up at me and puts her hand on my face as the children huddle closer to her side. It'll be the end of us. You know that, don't you?

So promise me. Promise me, you won't get consumed. I look down at her and cannot help a little laugh, even despite everything. She looks so serious. This makes a smile in turn, and she shakes her head and gently pushes me. I promise, I tell her, with a smile, and will always be together. I left my head to look up at the desert, then close my eyes, allowing a deep breath in as the breeze blows pleasantly over my skin.

Now come on, I say with a grin. Let's get these kids home. And we have to regroup with the others. And so we set off down the road, hands held, with the warmth of the night, washing welcomingly over us all. That was quite the adventure, wasn't it? I say to Evangeline,

as the wind blows cold and bitter across the fields. The wheat all around me rushes violently in the breath of the impending storm and the first raindrop falls from the swirling skies above. Just you and me on the hunt through the liminal spaces. I chuckle, holding her a little tighter. I love you, she says. Do you remember that underground swimming pool,

the one that just kept going and going? The water came up to our knees, but never any deeper. Everything's going to be okay, she says. Her smile dances in her eyes. Do you remember that mountain? I ask with increasing desperation. The mountain we climbed all the way to the top. It moved and spoke like a living thing, ancient and powerful.

You must remember. Evangeline, please, just tell me you remember. She grins at me as rain drops fall thick and fast onto her face. And the recording ends. I wipe the screen and tap play for the hundredth time, the thousandth time perhaps. If Angeline looks at me, at the camera. I love you, she says.

I love you too, I whisper. Everything's going to be okay, she says. A smile dances in her eyes. To this I say nothing. I just wipe my screen of my phone for the second time and then slide it regretfully into my pocket. With a long and strange sigh, I rise alone to a stand.

I open up my umbrella. and lifted up over my head as the downpour truly begins. I looked to my left at the faraway tree line, dark and watching, and lightning strikes above it. I turn to my right, to the hills and the mountains. Something impossible lies behind them, and that is where my path now leads.

I check that my logbook remains tucked away, safe and dry. It is my duty to report my findings to share the stories of the travellers, of the explorers and the wanderers and the stumblers, of those who were changed, of the things that they found, of those who were lost, and of those who never came back. This is my promise to you. I will find the answers, one way or another. And so I set out across the field, through the rain, and into, as always.

the unknown. I had a pet bunny as a kid. I called him Loopy and he was just the sweetest little buddy in the world. He was a bit timid, so he crawled up in my lap whenever there was something threatening about. And to a tiny prey animal, the entire world can seem like a threat. So yeah, Loopy ended up spending a lot of time in my arms. I got him when I was 10 and by the time I was 16, I didn't have much time to play with him anymore. Life kind of takes hold of you, and pet bunnies just can't hold a candle to hormones and cars. Sometimes I forgot to feed him, and I barely let him out to play. If I hadn't been for my mom checking in on him, he probably would have gotten sick or starved.

Loopy passed away on my 18th birthday. When my mom called me to tell me about it, I was at a party. I didn't even cry. But sometimes time puts things in perspective. Now, more than ten years later, I feel awful looking back in myself. I was so selfish and juvenile. I was the entire world of that little thing. He loved me more than anything.

He never understood why I stopped comforting him or why he couldn't sit on my lap anymore when there was a thunderstorm. See, when the COVID pandemic hit, I was expecting a promotion at my job at the water treatment facility. I was first in line for the supervisor's job. The other guy was about to retire. Then came the pandemic and things got all kinds of messed up. My dad caught it, bad,

and we had to sell a few of my old things just to stretch the paychecks a bit. That's when I found Loopy's old things. His cage, his toys, all of it, even the little sign I'd made for him in shop class. I'm a grown-ass man, but imagining all the good times I had with him and how badly I treated him. It just broke me. So I decided I was going to make things right. I couldn't just let one mistake to find me, and I have a genuine interest in caring for these animals.

I decided I was going to adopt a new pet bunny to keep me company through the pandemic and the years to come. Not just a store bought one either, but one who needed. a home, a rescue. I found a post from a family in the next town over. They were having trouble taking care of their bunny, as they suddenly had to change their work schedules and work extra shifts to make ends meet. They couldn't take care of it in good conscience,

so they put it up for adoption. She was a white bunny with orange spots over her eyes and a stripe along her back. She'd been very well cared for. She even had an Instagram account, It was clear that the owners cared deeply by their pet and wanted to see her come to a good home. It made me pause for a bit, unsure whether I could provide that or not. But I was committed.

I could do this. That's how I first got a hold of. Penelope. I pay the rehoming fee. I got her a big cage, plenty of toys and space to climb and hide. I brought a whiteboard so it could schedule changing a cage, and I set up an alarm on my phone to remind myself when she should get time out of a cage.

I wouldn't mess this up. This wasn't going to be like loopy. I'd learned. I was a better person. I wasn't that selfish, stupid kid anymore. Penelope was hesitant. She didn't eat, but she drank plenty of water. She was pretty comfortable being handled,

and she made the cutest little noise whenever I called her name. She'd had some training. and could do little jumps and follow obstacle courses. I actually got the info for Instagram. So those first few days, I posted at least three times a day. Penelope with a tiny carrot, which she didn't eat. Penelope standing next to an oversized coffee mug, Penelope curled up watching Netflix.

It was the cutest thing ever, I swear. We had a weekly game night online. I'd sign up with all of my friends and play something, like pictonary or werewolf something fun and social just to make us forget that we were prisoners in our own homes I was going to do this big reveal

and link Penelope's Instagram on Game Night it was all set up and ready I prepared a little red bow for her and I was going to play a little song so when Game Night came along I was fired up my friends may look like hard asses but they're sweethearts

Tom is a truck mechanic working for a hauling company, but he subscribed to every damn cute animal subreddit there is. He gets notifications about new posts on his phone like it's his job, or Rick, who's a police officer who draws Disney self-portraits and sells them on his Etsy page. I've bought at least four. So, imagine showing a room of eight of these guys that I'm taking care of Penelope. They were going to freak out. So I signed up, told them that I had a surprise and walked off screen. Except I'm the one who was in for the surprise.

I don't know how I didn't hear it, but the bulber burst in Penelope's nightlight. Some kind of short circuit problem. There was glass all over the backside of the cage and scorch marks on the plastic bottom. And right there, in the corner, was Penelope. She was chewing on glass.

There was this big shard. that it come right out of light, and she was chewing it, not even nibbling, just chowing down, making these pain little squeaks. I freaked the hell out. I think I screamed.

I told the latch open and tried batting the glass out of her paws and grabbed her. She freaked out too and squirmed free with a squeal. Small fragments of glass was stuck in a fur, and I cut myself in my thumb

trying to pick her up. She fell out of my hands, landed on her side, and scurried under the couch. I crawled after her, dropped the blood dripping on my carpet. I tried calling out to her, but she stopped making the cute little response noise. Instead, she kept crunching glass. Crunch, crunch.

That little nose twitching up and down, tiny paws gently holding a razor sharp edge. I had to cancel game night. The reveal would have to wait. I tried to coax her out of there. I tried toys, water. vegetables, treats, nothing. All she wanted was to sit there and munch on a shard.

I felt awful, absolutely awful. I'd failed to take care of their little darling bunny. Then, she was done. She'd eaten it all, and she was calm again. She came up and poked her nose against my bloody thumb, and I almost cried with relief. I scooped her up in my arms and tried to find a number for an emergency vet. However, it was almost midnight and nothing was open. The few places you could call

during emergency were either closed due to COVID or had queues that lasted for hours. I tried going online to find a chat, posting in forums, anything, but this was urgent. Never did I even consider that Penelope was fine. But she was, she just like being carried. As she slept on the I cleaned her cage and put in a new bedding. I pulled in my comfiest chair so I could watch her all night just in case she got worse. She looked so peaceful that I was scared she wouldn't wake up. I carefully put her in her freshly clean cage and she fell asleep instantly. I just sat there watching her.

She slept without a hitch through the night, unlike me. The next day I finally got a hold of a vet. I told them about the glass. and they just didn't believe me. If that was true, she'd be dead, they said. There's just no way for a bunny to survive that. They could take a look, but the price hike was insane. They didn't deem this a reasonable emergency.

They just didn't believe that she'd actually eaten glass. I honestly considered paying up, but the bills had already been piling up since my dad got sick. I hadn't realized I could be looking at a sizable vet bill in the first week. I tried keeping her eye and her myself, but she was sneaky. She would slip out of my side and hide,

and I could find her chewing on things. Not to eat, but to test them, like she was looking for something. One night, as I was falling asleep, I heard this strange thumping noise. Rhythmic. I turned on the lights,

but couldn't see anything. As the thumping stopped, I just pulled up the covers and got back to sleep. I imagined hearing something in the living room, but I couldn't be bothered. Maybe I was being lazy, or maybe the sound really was just subtle. The next day, I walked into a scene I'll never forget. Penelope had gotten out of a cage and rammed a head against my bookshelf.

A few things had fallen off. A picture frame, a few books, a teddy bear. And finally, a ball of glass marble. She'd eaten it All of it The glass frame was empty And the marbles were just

Gone And there sat Penelope Staring at me Class balls forcing a shape in her stomach Like a bunch of grapes She didn't blink She just sat there Trying to get the glass dust out of her whiskers

With those little paws I approached her slowly She let me pick a up and it felt like holding a furry bag of marbles. She cuddled up to me. I felt something cut my hand. I shifted my weight, held Penelope with my other arm, and noticed a large shard had caught me.

But this was different. It was poking out of her skin, right behind her ear. A long sliver of glass, no thicker than a sheet of paper. And now my blood was on it. Penelope didn't seem too bothered. By now I was trying to call the owners. There was something wrong, seriously wrong.

I just couldn't get a hold of them. They weren't answering my calls and they blocked me on most social media sites. They were ignoring me. I tried to find some common friends or some other kind of inn. But there was nothing. These people had lived in a small house down by a lake in Tomscog, Minnesota, and now they had just packed up and left. What the hell even happened to them?

I was getting the sense that maybe the bunny had something to do with it. There was something strange about it, and not just the glass eating. She was starting to look at me funny. The cute little noises she made, as I called her name, started to sound more like growls, and I could have sworn she'd grown larger. I decided to lock her in a cage and take her to the vet the next day. I'd pay the damn bill. I couldn't give up now, glass or no glass.

I'd taken on this responsibility, God damn it. I should have known better. She broke out of a cage again that following night, and this time she was just gone. I tried looking everywhere, every inch of the house that a bunny could reach, and even places they couldn't. I checked the foundation, I checked for tracks, nothing.

She was just gone. I must have looked for at least two full days. though no more cute Instagram picks after that. About a week later, I came home with a pizza and a beer. I unlocked the front door, set the box and brew down, and heard this strange noise. A clinking sound. There was a cold breeze coming from the bedroom.

Thinking it was a burglar, I got a kitchen knife and redded the emergency number of my phone. I stepped into the bedroom. And there was Penelope. She'd grown to the size of a large cat, more hair than pet bunny. Stray rays of light from the living room got caught in the hundreds of glass shards that covered a body, masking her white and orange fur. Her eyes were large and had a strange light to them. It took me a few seconds to realize her eyes were actually glass marbles, gleaming with color.

She'd shed most of her fur as she crashed through the window and climbed in. clumps of skin hung from the broken frame, and she was gnawing on the glass shards. Glass claws protruded from her paws. Her glass fur clinked and broke as she moved, leaving a sharp trail behind, and yet not a single drop of blood. Penelope? The cute little noise she used to make turned into a scream. As she did a little hop, the shards in her fur started to break,

As they did, they seemed to grow back or never really run out. A cloud of glass dust hung in the air around her. Then, she charged me. I was terrified. I never seen anything like it. I never heard a sound like that. The crunch, crunch, crunch of breaking glass, getting close above the millisecond. I fell backwards, hitting the back of my head on the bedroom door

and tumbled out into the living room on all fours. Penelope with a glass marble eyes just charged straight ahead into the door. Her eyes fell out and rolled away. They clinked together like they'd done in countless rounds of childhood games. Penelope snarled at me, her teeth replaced with long shards of a razor-thin glass. She couldn't see me.

I just stayed still on all fours and held my breath. She waddled out next to me, barely stroking my right arm. Glass was dropping from her like. snowflakes. She hissed like a snake, bursting into attacks in random directions. The living room light made the shard sparkle. Suddenly, she stopped and made a noise as if to regurgitate. A new marble popped into her eye socket, but she still couldn't see me. Had I not been forcing my breath down, I would have screamed. This was a nightmare. Then my letter of the cage alarm rang. I'd forgotten about it.

The second marble popped into place as she charged me. I threw my phone at her, but it just smashed into the side of her cage. I got up on my feet and rolled up under the kitchen table, hearing the clinking of a claws smatter against the ceramic tiles underneath. She ran straight into a chair, tipping it over. She thrust in a rage, rolling around, spreading glass everywhere, like some kind of crocodile death roll. She attacked the chair over and over, making sure he wasn't moving. I just sat there, knees curled up to my chin, shaking like a leaf. She slowly walked around, listening for clues.

She made this strange croaking noise while still under the table, sounding like a frog. As she starts banging ahead on one of the table legs, I panicked. I had to get out of there. I counted down from three, rolled off the table, and burst into a sprint. Only it ended far too fast. I stepped on something small, squishy and sharp. Something went right through the sole of my foot. Screaming, I crawled out of the kitchen.

My foot was bleeding all over the white tiles, and there, peeking out from under the kitchen table, was Penelope. I crushed half a head, but she didn't seem to mind. Now she had the space for three marbles in her head instead of only two. With every hop, more marbles tumbled out, like a broken goddamn gumball machine. I crawled back, screaming incoherently. I caught the edge of the hallway carpet and had an idea.

I pulled it up, dust and all, and threw it on Penelope as he charged. I crawled up, wrapped her in it, and put the entire thing in a black garbage bag. I barely even remember limping around the kitchen, looking for duct tape, as the enraged thing twisted and turned, desperate to get out. I'm not proud of beating that bag I need to freak out once it started twitching again I'm not proud of trying to run it over with my car and I'm definitely not proud of setting the damn thing on fire but what was I supposed to do

bottom line is always kill it with fire Jesus Christ Almighty there was no way I was going to let that thing live I guess I was never meant to own a pet Maybe this was my punishment I've closed her Instagram account And I've yet to get a hold of her original owners I get dozens of messages from fans asking me what happened

And I don't know what to say I don't have the heart to tell them she died Or what really happened I can't tell them about those pain screams Fading with the embers Never get a pet from Tomscog, Minnesota That town is twisted.

They warn me not to write this post, but I have evidence, and I can't live with myself knowing about this and not exposing it. I'll upload proof in an edit as soon as I'm done posting. If you know any reporters, please send this to them.

Okay, I'm an urban explorer in New York City. I'm just getting my Reddit started, trying to build an audience, etc. and a few of you know I went to Heart Island last week. That's the tiny scrap of land in the East River that was a prison camp during the Civil War. Then a psychiatric institution, they're in a TB sanitarium. Now a mass grave for poor people.

You get it. The island is mostly abandoned now. So, I went out there. There was supposed to be like a million bodies buried there, so they would get me views. It's close, it's creepy, and I assumed it would be empty. It's run by the Department of Corrections, but after asking around, I got a few DMs saying it's pretty easy to avoid them if you stick to the buildings

and stay away from the mass graves. At first, things seem fine, you know. I was supposed to be getting the creep-out vibes, but Heart Island is actually kind of a beautiful place. It's mostly nature now, a lot of trees. half the buildings that are still standing are the kind of old where they're charming and rustic so I checked some of those out and took some picks

then I heard a helicopter closing in overhead and saw a black SUV winding up the road in the distance at first I was just like ah damn it's security so I ducked inside the building and took cover but as I kept track of the helicopter through a window it got lower and lower and lower It wasn't just surveilling the island

It landed just over the hill next to me The SUV was also closing in But the people in the car didn't look like cops It was like a bunch of laughing women in fancy dresses For the life of me It looked like they were going to a party I looked around Where the hell had they come from

were they already on the island this whole time? This thing is only like a third of a square mile, and there's no bridge to it. And where were they going? I wondered if it was some thrill-seeking billionaire trying to impress his friends, or one of those high-end theme parties you hear about. They drove right past me and over the hill. Then another helicopter came and landed, and another and another.

I decided to check it out. That was a bad call. So I stayed inside the tree line, trying to keep hidden. But I started following the car over the ridge. Over the hill was a squat grey building. My stomach kind of churned when I looked at it. It just looked like a sanitarium or a hospital, or an asylum, something, possibly a prison. But there were all these people milling around outside of it.

Cars. Helicopters, plural, all disgorging men in black suits and women in cocktail dresses, like it was the damn Metcgada or something. Then I started inching in closer. Urban Explorin doesn't normally involve sneaking up on people, but I noticed that no one was hanging around the back of the building, just caterers coming in and out, most of them not in uniform, just white aprons, which was perfect.

Maybe I could blend in there. I went around the back and crept as close as I dared. By now, the stream of Cageras were starting to trickle off. Whatever it was was about to start. I waited for the last Catera to disappear and prayed they wouldn't lock the door behind them. I got lucky. The creak of the rusty door seemed like the loudest noise I'd ever heard as I pulled it open. This place clearly was not built for luxury, which just piqued my injury.

further about what in God's name all these people were doing here. My heart pounded as I wove to the kitchen. It was dark, but definitely inactive use. Filled with pots and pans, delicious smells bubbling up from them. I started down the hallway. It was way too narrow. There was nowhere to hide if I needed it. I crept through dozens of buildings, older and emptier than this one.

But this was worse. I'd never broken and entered anywhere in inhabited before. Pretty soon, Asher Whispers came to me. Men and women, low voices, excited. Small talk. Some of them, the younger ones were giggling. Some of the older people sounded very serious, worried. Like at any party where some people have business and others just the gossip, I guess.

But I kept hearing the word, Skinner, which was weird. The Skinner situation, the Skinner incident, what happened in Skinner? Is Skinner a place? If that means anything to anybody, let me know. I was actually in a pretty good spot for stealthy eavesdropping until something ran up the leg of my pants. I managed to muffle my scream, but I did not contain the flailing. I stumbled forward directly into the open doorway.

A terrified mouse flew off of it. of me and scurred away. A hush fell over the entire room when I stumbled in. This was a massive room with rust-coloured cracks running through the yellowing paint. But it was made up to look like a giant party atrium, with tables of snacks lining one wall and damp balloons hanging from the ceiling. What the hell? About 200 people wearing Prada and Gucci stared at me, and I stared back at them. An older woman in a cocktail dress took a step towards me. Um, hello, the woman smiled uncertainly, nervously. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Are you with the gardening staff? Hallelujah. Yes, ma'am. I looked down apologetically, maybe too enthusiastically and my mud-covered boots. I was told to find a supervisor and, uh, I did my best to look look like. lost and clueless. It didn't occur to me that Heart Island doesn't have a garden in staff. Then the woman smiled this wide, unnerving smile.

Oh, it's no trouble at all. She glanced at the two men next to her, who looked decidedly more concerned. In fact, why don't you join us for a spell? I'm sure you've been working very hard. The bigger guy's eyes widened, and he was suddenly smiling too. Yeah, get yourself a snack, kid, he enthused. Big, screw this energy. But the lady behind me gave me a playful little shove forward.

Enjoy yourself, you're in for a show. So, I stood around, surveilling the room as subtly as I could. This was a weird-ass place for a party. The upper floor, overlooking the atrium, was lined with doors that looked like steel, and I didn't want to think about who they might have held. I couldn't record discreetly, surrounded by all these people, so my plan was to wait around until they started to leave, and then hide in a bathroom or something and film the aftermath. Until then, I was alone in this mass of disgustingly rich people, chattering on about increasingly unsettling things. What are your intentions for January? One woman asked the friends.

They're saying it's going to be a big one, a good time to ask for big things. You don't believe in the amplification BS, do you? The man had a side asked. That stuff's all in your head, cognitive dissonance. Channeling works the same way all the time. We just like to imagine there must be a trade-off when things go to hell. Look at 1929, the woman insisted. Major Cains, major losses.

They always come together. It's the balance. So, when things get really bad for a while, it just means something really good is coming. We just have to take advantage of it when it does. Cognitive dissonance, the man insisted. Patternseeking, all of that. With all the suffering in 2020, we can hope.

Another woman raised the champagne flute in a gloved hand. I look forward to many years of a long life and good health. I'll drink to that any time. The man agreed. Every bone in my body told me something here was really, really wrong. But then again, I was curious, and maybe a little flattered. I'm not the kind of person who gets invited to big events, and some of these people seemed kind of nice. Ignoring the fact that I was wearing an outfit that could be best described as,

and tifa losers at mud wrestling, I thought to myself, what the hell, why not? But an hour later, serious alarm bells was starting to go off in my head. Gaggle after gaggle of rich people came up to me, like I was some kind of damn celebrity. They asked about me. What was my name? I lied, obviously. What did I do? Lied about that too.

They told me how it was just so good to meet me. I was too flabbergasted, and possibly too freaked out, to ask them anything about themselves. people like me don't have long-term relationships with people like them I felt like an animal in a zoo maybe this random poor person who had walked into their midst was an excuse to feel good about themselves for being magnanimous about an hour in the sound of clinking glass filled the air everybody fell silent almost instantly

and I followed their expecting gazes to see a taller man with a thick salt and peppered beard The woman who invited me stood at his side, smiling funly. Esteemed magistrates and members, from Silo to St. Charles, from 71st to Georgetown, we welcome you. He had the voice of radio, and now it echoed throughout the cavernous room. Thank you all for your presence here tonight. I know I, for one, have been anticipating this occasion for the better part of a year. Thank you for the opportunity to host.

This is an auspicious time indeed to renew our collaboration. All signs are that the energy of this alignment will be particularly auspicious. The world has seen terrible suffering in this past year, but we all know the greatness that will follow. Magisters? The hairs on the back of my neck were starting to stand up. Auspicious alignments? Sounded like some harmless rich people BS.

like astrology or maybe the secret, but Manchester sounded like something out of the craft. Then he looked directly at me. We have an unexpected guest with us tonight. I looked around. The eyes of the rich folks nearest me were fixed on me too. Yeah. I started trying to inch towards the door to the kitchen,

but the group around me tightened a little, smiling at me. smiling like they were afraid I'd run. Yeah, I'm gonna head out. Sorry to intrude. I tried to push past them, politely, but a little insistently. But they didn't budge, and one guy even went to grab my shoulder. So, I bolted.

I tried plowing through the crowd, hoping they would be too delicate to try tackling a crazy person who's clearly having a nervous breakdown in the middle of their gala. My hopes were disappointed. Whispers like hisses filled the air around me, and suddenly my feet are in the air. Somebody must have spilled champagne, because I hit that tile floor with a full force of my weight. The party guests gathered around, giggling and exclaiming in awe. Jeez, you okay?

I looked up to see an unrealistically cute girl kneeling over me. I really think I've seen really seen really. something, but for the life of me, I can't place what. Hey, your leg is bleeding. I looked down, and the pain hit. I think you cut it on my glass. You're going to bolter me again if we go get you a band-aid. I looked at the champagne flutes shattered beneath me, and all the champagne all over a dress,

and suddenly my fear was mixed with a twinge of sheepishness. She took me over to a side area and found a towel. We chatted while she held it against my leg, and I tried to shake off the embarrassment of fleeing in terror from what was so obviously just a gala. There was a lot of blood, which for some reason made it even more embarrassing. But she was really chill about it. So right through my gardening staff story, but she offered to keep the secret if I'd stay and help them out with something they were about to do. It's just like a dumb show thing that happens sometimes, but it means a lot to people. All you have to do is sit on stage for a few minutes.

I wasn't feeling very motivated to say no to her. Just one thing. I'm going to have to blindfold you while we walk in. Wait a minute. Why would I need to be blindfolded? Is this like an eyes wide shut kind of thing? Get your mind out of the gutter. And the next thing you know, there I was, being led to the dark.

I felt the girl's hand leading me down a hallway, then another set of hands, then another. At least four people had their hands on me, steering me towards something I couldn't see. Suddenly, an older woman's voice, the woman who initially beckoned me in, was in my ear. Take a seat, dear. They sat me on a chair, but the hands stayed in my shoulders. Suddenly, I felt a rope swinging around my left wrist, then my right. They pulled tight in a violent jerk, burning my skin and crush my arms against the arms of the chair. I yelled out in pain.

Then the blindfold came off. I was sitting in the middle of a dramatically lit circular ballroom. The paint was flaking, but the chandeliers were burning like it was a hundred years ago. I was surrounded on all sides by the party guests, watching me, waiting for something. What the ever-loving hell! The cute girl was standing in the front. She winked at me. It's really awesome that you're doing this.

I stared at her, while everyone else looked at me like a movie star. I didn't know if I was the hero or the victim. I swung my gaze around the ballroom, trying to calculate just how much danger I was in. I was flanked by four huge brass bowls. Two of them were filled with what looked like water. The other two billowed bright orange flames. Two people stood on either side of the four bowls.

They wore white ceremonial robes that look like they've been made by Versaceae, embroidered with black symbols. At the edges of the crowd were about ten people with... Septus? Is that the right word for it? Some kind of staff with big, heavy-looking knobs on the end. These were also engraved with symbols. What the actual hell had I gotten myself into?

The chandeliers dimmed and the ballroom was cast in eerie, flickering orange light. The crowd around me fell silent. It didn't seem real. I stared at them. They just stared right back. And then... They screamed. All 200 of them screamed at me.

Carnal. Their faces contorted into grotesque snarls of rage. I screamed too. I couldn't help it. And then they stopped. Instantly they were silent, and staring at me again. I was shaking. One of the men in robes stepped towards me.

He had something in his hand. It was the towel with my blood on it. He held it up for the crowd to see and walked with it over to one of the flaming bowls. He caught the towel on fire and dropped it at my feet. The crowd hissed at me. As the flames licked dangerously close to my jeans, I tried to ball my legs up and away from it, but the heat was still singeing me through my denim.

I waited for my pants to catch on fire, but the rag burned itself out. The spotlight went out. Then the singing started. A low murmur, perfect synchrony, perfect harmony. The acoustics of the ballroom magnified their voices until the air itself seemed to vibrate. I could feel the vibrations in my chest, even though the voices were still low and gentle.

Whatever words they were singing weren't English. They weren't Latin either. I've never heard anything like it. The volume rose, but in a way they felt excruciatingly controlled. The harmonies remained intact. The voices perfectly synchronized. This was a religious act for these people. I could see the faces of the front row in the light of the fires nearest me,

and their eyes was closed. People didn't achieve this kind of harmony unless it meant something to them. My skin was beginning to crawl. The volume and the pitch were rising slowly. My ears were ringing. My chest was aching from the force of the noise. The people in the front row were shouting now.

Then they were screaming again. But this time it wasn't normal screaming. Their voices kept their synchrony, their pitch, building a weird chorus of competing and harmonising screams. They sounded like they were about to kill somebody, but once. The screaming stopped. Thank God.

But it was replaced with a hissing, an aggressive, hungry chanting. The hair was standing in my arms, and then I realized it wasn't just from emotion. The air around me had grown very, very cold. The sudden gust of wind ruffled my hair. I looked around. Wind? Then something tickled my face, a gentle rain of dust, plaster dust. I looked up.

Directly above me was a huge, ancient chandelier. I threw myself, still tied to the chair, away from it. At the same moment a thunderous crack echoed from the ballroom. I hit the marble floor between two of the flaming cauldrons, at the same time the chandelier impacted with a horrific crash. And then, nothing. I woke up alone in the back of an SUV. My body hurt, my head hurt, the cut of my leg stung, my shin still burned, and I was covered in deep bruises.

I glanced out the window. How are we? But I knew the answer. We were in Queens, only a few blocks from my apartment. Almost home, sir. How did he know where I lived? My wallet was in my pocket. So was my phone.

But I left my ID at home. You're lucky we found you when we did. The driver passed me back a bottle of water and a pack of aspirin. And that it wasn't worse. Those buildings can come down at any time. There's a reason people aren't allowed out there. I stared at him in the mirror. What was that?

You got hurt. exploring, that's all. Who were those people? Who are you? The driver pulled over and turned back towards me. He stared at me, gravely serious. No one. You saw no one.

You got hurt while trespassing and we found you. And as long as that's what happened, you were going to have a healthy and prosperous life. Do you understand? I thought I did. Maybe. Prosperous? He didn't answer.

But if that's not what happened. His demeanor changed. I saw a bit of fear coming into his eyes. Don't. I've seen what can happen, okay? Don't tell anyone what you saw or who you saw. Just please. You don't deserve all happen to you.

And for the last week, I haven't But I recognised one of them on CNN today And like I said I can't handle knowing about this And not alerting people So I'm almost positive It was

And I think If I share these pics You can help me ID the others So here we go Sorry I'm getting a terrible headache I'll try uploading now Sorry for the delay

him just being really weird, still trying to upload. Wow, head hurts. Still having trouble uploading. I'm going to try one more time. Get the images, but hold on. I don't know what's happening to me. I knew I wasn't getting a husband today, but I still had to wear the same robe I was given of 15.

Now, practically threadbare, and go to the annual matching ceremony. Pansy watched me with a typical feline disinterest as I prepared myself, and she yawned and curled up on my bed as I waved goodbye and walked out into the night. After hiking up the highest hill in our commune, I sat on one of the mats reserved for the unmatched, studying the nervous girls in the hut with me. Soon all the boys that turned 15 this year will enter, meet with us and make their choice.

Whoever they choose must accept, as it was the author's will, And we must abide, so he continued blessing our lands. I used to feel humiliated at these ceremonies. Most girls get a match on their first attendance at 15. If you may get lucky a year or two later. But me, I was already turning 35 and still as single as ever. The community pitied me at first, but the older I got, the more they started avoiding me, especially the young and matched girls.

They didn't want my curse to rub off on them. Honestly though, once I hit 20, it felt more like a blessing than a curse. We were taught from childhood that a girl's purpose was the serve her husband, and at 15, I desperately wanted to prove my worth. But as I grew older, the council didn't know what to do with me,

so they had me tend to their gardens, still serving men until a man matched with me. Although I lived on a hut on their property They left me alone For it was improper for men to interact with unmatched girls No matter their age Their wives and children left me alone too Due to my aforementioned curse

And it was then that I learned How wonderful it was to be independent Just me, my little hut The Gardens and Pansy I was still forced to continue attending the ceremony though, but I began enjoying them. Certain none of the boys would choose me over one of the

younger girls, I'd relax and watch their awkward courtship rituals, trying to guess who'd match with who. After a few years, my predictions became flawless, especially after I began drinking dandelion tea before the ceremony. Intrigued,

I experimented with herbs, roots and flowers from the garden, and soon I could even foresee the matched futures. I was certain I was tapping into Elythe Oath's will due to my connection to his creations. A bell chimed, and I adjusted my patchrobe and smiled as a train of teenage boys entered the hut. They walked the perimeter, chest puffed as they studded us. The girls were not supposed to luck, but a few were peaking. Raised far from boys, this was

their first exposure, and some were visibly trembling. Twelve boys, twelve girls, not including me. After I signed names for each of them in my head, I observed. There was definitely a connection between Ash and Daisy. She was one of the peekers, and his gaze kept travelling to her. Cedar was roaming around Rose, but she wasn't for him. Hyacinth was. He'd figure that out once they started talking.

I sensed the strong connection between Lily and both Fur and Cyprus. Two boys had matched with one girl before. though it wasn't as common as one boy matching with two girls. A second bell chimed. The boys made a beeline for the girls they liked most. Bagonia was mobbed by four, much to a shock, though I had to admit she was the most beautiful. Only oak would match with her, though.

As expected, no one approached me. I watched Cedar make his way to Hyacinth after a quick chat with Rose. Poor Rose was on the verge of tears. But I knew she'd end up with Elm, who was currently talking to Iris. Fur and Cyprus, both of the chance to sit with Lily, and now they were talking to each other. Yes, I see it clearly now. They'll both match with her, and she'll bear them four children. Zinia and I were the only ones not talking to anyone.

She was glaring at me, possibly blaming me for her unpopularity, but she needn't worry. She had a match. I looked around for him and realized he wasn't there. I didn't know what he looked like, but none of the boys in the hut were her match. I heard a slight commotion outside and frowned. Something was going on, something different. I could sense Sinia's future becoming hazy, and mine was shifting. I sat up, feeling dread for the first time ever.

Zinia's match Was now mine Before I could process this change A boy was pushed into the hut He stood at the door looking uncomfortable But not as uncomfortable as I was This was Zinia's match My match

I named him pine As I watched and talked to the girls he liked And it was obvious He had a connection with Zinia But I still saw his future with me me, an unhappy future for the both of us. Either Eeyoth changed his mind or I was wrong for once in my life. I hoped for the latter, because there was no way I was letting Pine match with me,

even if I went against everything the ceremony stood for. Once I made up my mind, I sensed a new shift and sighed with relief. Pine was going to match with Zinia. I saw it bold and clear again. They will have two kids. a boy and a girl. What I didn't expect was Pine walking over to me, everyone turning to us, a hush taking over the hut.

This was the first time any boy had sat in front of me, and he looked as awkward as I was. Yacht's blessing, he mumbled, focusing on his cuttigles. Yachth's blessing, I said. My name is Sindon. What name may be its match? He was following the courtship dialogue we were taught at 15. I didn't even remember it, and I didn't need to.

I wasn't vying for his match. My name is Willow, and I think I'm too old for you. He looked up at me, his expression teetering between shock and offence. You do not make that decision. I do, and Willow is not a name. It is a tree. Yes, I gave my name. myself that name. What is your real name? Wello is my real name. He clenched his jaw.

Very well, Eorth's blessing. He stood up and went to another girl, but the hut became reanimated again. I still sensed that Sindon would match with Zinia, so I relaxed and chuckled to myself. Perhaps he was just curious about the older woman amidst the teens. A third bell chimed and all the boys exited. After her fourth bell, us ladies followed them down the hill into a field. All the matched men of our commune had already congregated there, sitting on the grass in front of the wooden stage. Up on that stage stood the esteemed members of the council. The boys lined up on the left and the girls on the right, and the matching validation began. The council member called for Willig and Ash climbed up on stage and announced that it was a little bit of the

I meanie was his match. I smiled as Daisy walked up and put a left palm over his right shoulder and a right palm under his left. The council members sprinkled dirt over their hands and thanked Eorth for his blessing. And we all applauded.

Afterwards, the match left the field together. As always, all my predictions were correct. And soon, it was only Zinia and me on the girl's side and Sindon on the boy's side. I was glad it was on us over. The order I got, the more taxing I found this useless standing. I couldn't wait to

get back to my hut, drink some chamomal tea and tell Pansy about tonight. Zindon, the council member said. Zindon shuffled up to the stage. With the oath's blessing, I've chosen Willow to be my match. I froze. My heartbeat accelerating as Zinia glared at me. This couldn't be right. I still sensed him with her. Fess, the council member said, calling out my birth name. Come up to the stage. I walked over in a trance and Sindon held his palms out,

his face stoic but his hands shaking. It was obvious he didn't choose me, but this couldn't be Eorth's will. I could sense it. This was wrong. I glanced at the men in the earthes. audience. None were shocked. I looked at the council members. I saw relief. This was their doing. I was an outlier, a thorn in their side for 20 years. A question they couldn't answer.

So they cheated to quiet everyone's unease. But I wasn't going to stay silent. You made him choose me. You dare undermine Eorth's will, one member asked. "'Eyorth's will is for Sindon to match with her,' "'I point to the Zinia. "'Are you claiming to know he oath's will?' "'The threatening accusation is, "'toan made me pause, "'fear seeping into my indignation.

"'While I know is that I'm not Sindon's match. "'Look at him. He does not want me.' "'Sindon remained quiet as he looked between me and the council. "'He was as afraid as I was. "'They shouldn't have ever. wrote him into the repulsive plans. It is blasphemous the claim to know better than he oath,

the eldest council member said. I blinked in shock. I'm not claiming to know better than him. I'm supporting him. I pointed again. He wants Sindon to match with her, and they are to have a son and a daughter. Whispers rippled through the crowd,

and I shrank into myself, afraid I'd said too much. A strange premonition overlapped my vision, and I gulped as I saw myself running through the trees, pansy, in my arms. It was dangerous for me to stay here. I had to run. I turned away, but a strong grasp of my arm pulled me back. I looked at the offending council membrane alarm. This was the first time any man had touched me. He was breaking their own rules, and the crowd's whispers turned to gasps. You are a "'Witch!' he spat.

"'You have been manipulating our futures "'and bewitching the ceremony attendees "'so you can remain unmatched.' "'What?' I stared at him in utter disbelief. "'How would I do that? Why would I do that?' "'So you would be in proximity to our quarters, "'to spy on us and control us. "'That position was your choice. I had no say.'

"'And so you could tend to our gardens,' "'he continued, not listening to me as he addressed the crowd. She wanted access to all our plants for her potions I do not make potions She's been manipulating us from the start Cursing our crops making our children sick Ruining our peace She's been working against Eorth to drive us away from his blessings

Witch the crowd yelled jumping up She must be stopped burn her No I struggled against the man holding me Let go I'm not a witch I've done nothing wrong She's trying to manipulate us, subdue her. I screamed as the men descended on me, my desperate

thrashing futile against their ropes and resolve. They shoved the scarf in my mouth and tied me to one of the stagious pillars, and I gasped as the eldest council member grabbed one of the surrounding torches. By your oath's will, we shall rid our community of the witch that has been plaguing us

with her impure ways. I looked with dread at the faces glaring at me. My prantic heart pulsating against the tight bonds. They were ready to burn me for something I had no hand in. My celibacy was Yorth's will, and my solitude theirs. Why couldn't I see that? Why couldn't they accept me? He turned and brought the torch closer to the stage, and I squirmed and pleaded, the coarse ropes abrading my skin and threadbare robe. I squeezed my eyes shut, I panicked breaths wheezing as I prayed to

he off, besieged in to save one of his most loyal followers. The crackle of the torch got closer, and my tears soaked the scarf as the heat of the flames taunted my trembling skin. I peaked through my eyelids, the eager expressions on the men's faces

terrifying as they awaited my incineration. I bucked and thrashed, bleeding, crying, begging, but it was the bolt of lightning that stopped them in their tracks. I looked up, of the cloudy sky, shuddering as thunder rumbled around us.

Was the y'orth answering my prayers? A single drop splattered at my bare feet before a torrent followed. They care out a grain merging with my tears. I looked at the men, sniffling, certain they would see this as the oath's intervention. What should we do? someone asked. This is the oath's will, a council member said, making my heart leap. Yes, another of a man. agreed. Women must also be present to discourage such acts. Please forgive us Y'orth for our haste.

My heart dropped. We shall prepare a proper execution tomorrow at high noon. What about the witch? We ever here. They'd have experienced the wrath of E. Orth. I yelled in despair, but they ignored my muffle pleas as they left me alone. I dropped my head, my hair forming a supping cage around my weeping face. I wished I really was a witch. Then I could have turned them all into weeds. What was wrong with being different anyway? I did the best I could with the life Eorth dealt me.

I cherished his creations, predicted his will, and appreciated his blessings. I lifted my head, squinting against the biting rain as I clenched my jaw on the scarf. If all that made me a witch, then so be it. At least I died for something I believed in. I didn't want to live in this intolerant community anymore. A soft touch around my ankle startled me, and I looked down to see Pansy by my feet. My heart strained as she sat and blinked at me,

the rain matting her silver fur. I didn't know if anyone would care for her after I was gone. Oh, Pansy, I thought. I'm so sorry. I did not mean to leave you like this. You haven't left me yet. I gasped, staring wide-eyed at her as a right voice echoed in my head. So you can finally understand me.

Took you long enough. Am I hallucinating? She licked a paw. No. You are not a cat. No, but I've taken the shape of one. I'm a familiar here to help you understand. your abilities.

My abilities? Yes, she stretched. There aren't as many witches as they used to be. Technology has stopped them from connecting to Mother Nature. Fortunately, you were born a witch and had the perfect environment to cultivate your abilities. Unfortunately, you were almost brainwashed to the point. I almost gave up on you.

My mind was reeling. I am really a witch? Yes, though not in the way they're accusing you of being. You can't cast spells or manipulate people, but you do have a connection to Mother Nature's flora. That is the second time you mentioned Mother Nature. Who is she? She is everything natural from under the sea to the sky.

Is that not Eyoth? Maybe that's what they called her. back in the day, but your kooky community twisted her into some strange deity. Mother Nature is a lot more accepting, as long as you treat her right. Is she the one who answered my prayers? No, she doesn't do that. She acts for the greater good, so it seems she has high hopes for you. Is she the reason I never got a match?

No, that was my doing. You, I said in shock. Why? How? I've got my own abilities, and I use them to protect yours. If you'd gotten matched that you're 15, you'd never have cultivated your skills. She blinked her amber eyes. Are you upset?

Well, I was at first, but then I was glad I didn't have to serve a man. I paused and thought, Are my relationship predictions from you too? She snorted. No, that was your interest, not mine. You figured out which plans aid in divination. They can help you predict a lot more than relationships, by the way. But they never did.

Because you never needed them to. The ceremonies were your only mysteries in this boring little commune of yours. I paused as I remembered my latest vision. Did I see myself running with you? That's a good sign. It means we're getting out of here. She walked to the edge of the stage. We should get moving before morning.

There's a coven not too far from here. They'll take us in and give us a safe space to practice. A coven? Yes, a group of other witches. There are others. Yes, though not exactly like. You're botanical, while there are a mix of atmospheric, aquatic, faunal and mineral. They've also lived in the real world instead of a backwards commune.

The real world? Yes, cities, electricity, cars, internet, phones. When I used to disappear for weeks at a time, I was out there trying to learn what I could as times changed. She tilted ahead and my confusion. Don't worry, you'll get to know. Everything once we get out of here. My pulse race with excitement and renewed life. I'm ready.

She curled up. All right. That's good to hear. Now, free yourself. What? Use your abilities to escape. Some of a vine with a shark thorn to slice of the ropes or strong roots to rip them apart. I blinked, dumbfounded.

I can't do that. Yes, now show me. But I do not know how. Then you better figure it out, quick before morning. I shot a nervous glance at the huts in the distance. Please, Pansy, I do not even know where to start. Can you not untie? She sighed and jumped off the stage.

I was hoping you'd at least try before asking for help. Wait, come back. I'll try. Pansy! I shot muffled y'alls at her as she walked away. With the rain still pouring, I looked around in despair, clueless and forsaken. With no other option, I stared at the grass, willing it to grow thicker, longer and sharper. Despite Pansy's mention of our lack of spells, I couldn't help but chant in my head as I wiggle my fingers,

urging the blades to live up to their name. After what felt like forever, I dropped my head, panting from exertion. My eyes stinging and my body aching. I guess I wasn't getting out of here. Even my prediction was wrong. I was a failure as a witch, so much so that the familiar who was patient enough to wait 20 years abandoned me and disgust. Stop moping, I didn't abandon you.

I jerked my head up to see Pansy trotting over, with a rusted piece of metal in her mouth. Pansy, I tried, I really did. I know, he hopped up on the stage and placed the front paws on the pillar. Here, grab it. Careful, it's sharp. I took the metal from her and got to work slicing through my buns. Did you read my mind?

Not really. We communicate by direct thoughts at each other, but your self-loathing was quite loud. Are you done? I flung the last coil away. Yes. Good. Ready to run?

Let's go. I look down. Should I carry you? That would be nice. I cradle pansy and followed her directions as I ran through the trees. Do you have a name? Or should I keep calling you pansy? I have a name.

But after 20 years, Pansy has grown on me. I'm just glad I didn't approach you in between the sneeze warts instead. I didn't think anything could make me laugh after today, but I chuckled. Pansy's are beautiful. They're one of my favourite flowers. I'm honoured. So, at this coven, I will learn all my abilities.

Yes. What will I be able to do? I can't wait. To find out. There's so much I can't tell you, which makes it hard for me to begin. I can't tell you the place, other than it's a desert in the US, far from any city. I can't tell you my job, other than I'm a soldier, have been since Marty Malone stole my lunch money in the third grade. He went home with a black eye.

I went home for a week. I joined up at 18, blew through basic and threw in fatigues for three tours in deserts far from the one home stationed at now. I've seen a lot of things. IEDs take legs and arms and souls. A little girl catch a stray bullet, go down with a head trailing ribbons of brain like gruesome streamers. I've never seen anything. Like the flesh pit. My superiors are probably reading this.

I'm sure they'll have it scrobed from the internet long before it's breached the stratosphere. Not that it matters to me. I'll be dead by the time it's over. I'm going to end myself. It's not the answer. Suicide never is. But I want to be in control of my death. You'll understand why soon enough.

It's growing. Even as I write this now, its engine is sway towards the taxpayers we're supposed to protect. But we can't protect them from this. Not the flesh pit. We don't know what it is, where it came from. We don't know how to destroy it. Not yet, anyway.

We only know that it grows, that it eats. It's a massive sinkhole in the desert crossed, a fleshy, gaping mouth expanding every day, minute, second. It's miles wide now. Wasn't that big when I first got here? It was no bigger than a swimming pool, its fleshy walls caving down into a deep, sunken cavity that bubbled, shifted, moved like melted cheese in a simmering pot.

Looking at it made my stomach curl with nausea. But the smell... I've known the sense of brain matter, blackened by gunpowder, of disembowed guts cooking in the desert pan after an ID Tudor Humve to scrap. This was worse. A damp, rotten reek that tunnelled up your nose, down your lungs and settled into your chest, nesting there like a dead thing in the walls of the house.

A smell that usurps all of your nose. others, lingering even when you've left the flesh bit behind, you'll never smell anything else again. I've been here for five days, got here two days after he's discovered. By then, checkpoints were scattered around its circumference, sandbags, tanks, coils of concertina wire, four men high. Overnight, that was all gone, including the two dozen seasoned grunts stationed around the perimeter. The flesh bit had taken Uncle Sam's sanction guns and assimilated them into its living walls.

No one knows how it happened. They only know that by morning it was the size of a football field. It was going faster than we could blink, ever expanding, eating away at the cracked desert skin, turning it into a shifting layer of flesh. Higher ups wondered it contained, needed it contained, destroyed preferably. It was only a matter of time before the media circus

fell out of the clown cars and protected this living nightmare to the outside world. That was where I entered stage right, sort of. Like I said, I can't say much more

than I already have. They all know who posted this. But it's not for my safety. It's for yours. The less you know, the better. Which means you shouldn't go poking around for the SEA. That's the Supernatural Enforcement Agency.

I'm only telling you for the sake of context. Other than that, you do best to sit on what you already know. Let the media talking heads do their dirty work. It's their job after all. You might be wondering how I got involved to the SEA. It's simple. I'd seen things overseas. The usual horrors of war.

Death, torture, ruin. but I'd seen other things too, dealt with them in a way that promoted me to an acronym agency after I'd finished my tours. That was how I found myself in the SEA. Not to say I wore a tie in aviators smoked over my eyes.

I still wore a uniform, with medals, made me seem important, which I guess is true. I was, after all, the one they brought in when a perfect town, the one that lived on no maps,

went up in flames, and when they were in the same, the ocean devoured a seaman on a mission down a ladder. If I do die, which I suspect I will, you'll be hearing more from me. I have a dead man's switch, one said to release my tales to the ether, because, despite the flesh bit being the worst of the horrors, there's other things you deserve to know about, to be prepared for, if nothing else. The siren sounded at midnight.

It cracked the darkness in half. A keen in cry that sent 400 armed soldiers flooding out of barracks and into formation. All of them jittering. Someone with nerves. Others fear. With the knowledge of the screaming siren meant one thing. The flesh pit was here. The impressive maze of mobile buildings, tents and watchtowers that comprise base camp alpha

and sat behind a chain link fence three miles south of the flesh pit was a life of activity. CPOs screamed orders to their men. Magazines were pumped into rifles. A wall of guns fell into place along the chaneling fence, sided out under the desert beyond. Or, what used to be the desert? I wasn't there to give orders, but if I was, I would have called a full-scale retreat.

What else could we do? As I took my place atop the foremost watchtower, angered guns on either side of me, their belt magazines cold up like steampunkers, snakes. I saw the desert was gone. In its place

stood a sunken, shifting concave that radiated terrible heat and piped that awful, fetid reek. The flesh pit had melted away the desert sands. The flesh pit was all I saw to the horizon and back. Flood lights clicked on along the fence, planting bars

of cold brightness out across the 50 feet desert separating us from death. The flesh pit had gotten deeper. I could tell by the way darkness spilled out of its center, like it had punched Mother Earth's heart and blood that looked like a shadow was fountening out as she died. Should I call this in?

I hesitated, took a beat. My thoughts solidified before they formed. Up until now, I'd merely dealt with the aftermath of disaster, not the catalyst of it. It made it hard to think. It made it hard to... An arm shot up over the rim of the flesh pit, grasping for purchase. It pulled out a body, one of which looked like a man,

and moved like a man who'd forgotten how to walk. He found its footing on flat ground, took an uneven step, then another, another, staggering forward like a zombie in an old black and white picture. As soldiers called it out, I watched it slowly get the hang of movement, his footing becoming more certain, powerful, like its atrophied muscles were solidifying with strength. Permission to fire, the gunner beside me called into his headset,

finger nuzzling the trigger of his mounted LNG. A guardwood voice came back, and his finger left the trigger with a pang of disappointment. I watched the thing approached, a lurching silhouette, moving just beyond the range of light, quickly nearing the fence line separating us from it, A nearby mounted loudspeaker aimed at the pit came to light with a squeal. Identify yourself, a hollow, angry voice roared out.

The figure continued forward, moving like a marionette in the hands of an unskilled puppeteer. I squinted. Then it stepped into the light and a bolt of horror slugged me through the centre like a clenched fist. Jesus Christ, the gunner beside me hissed. Jesus! The man who moved. like a broken toy was made of nothing but flesh. Faceless, featureless,

a twisted parody of a human being. One, Cassin melted, waxing meat, and given life by something alien and awful. A voice spilted through the gunner's headset and his finger found the trigger once more. I plugged my ears as gunfire split the night in two. A spray of bullets cut the fleshman apart. His top half fell forward with a heavy smash.

bubbling out across what remained of the desert ground like liquid meat. But he didn't stop. His bottom half kept moving, picking up pace, breaking into a heavy sprint toward the fence line. As his pale feet, each hairless, nailless, trembled through the puddle of goo, it sucked up into his form like a sponge. His top half re-grew as he took an impossible leaping stride toward the fence. He impacted it with a metal clang and skittered up. more arms sprouting from his form, turning him into a flesh spider as it cut up through the razor wire. Barb still scraps of bleeding meat from its body, but it didn't stop.

It fell over the fence and under the knot of soldiers below, tearing through them as gunfire erupted and chaos fell over base camp alpha. My hand fell my sidearm as I watched the flesh pit. I could feel something brewing deep within it. It vibrated up through the soles of my feet, shaking my lungs. and teeth above them. An army of things filtered up over the rim, flooding out like a chasm of ants fleeing a drowning hive. Hundreds of fleshmen, flesh things rushed the fence line like an army of meat. Tanks of skin drove up over the lip and fell forward, charging towards

us and blowing meaty clubs of liquid goo into the light. It assimilates and copies, I thought, as my word broke like a vase dropped from six stories. It's John Carpenter's the thing Then I fell down the tower stairs And ran like hell The night was a disco of gunfire and blood Grenades went off left and right Sprays of desert pan flew up on fireballs

Riding them like geysers of heat The fence light folded like paper As the army of meat drove through it Flesh things spiders dogs men tore through the ranks vaporizing soldiers, engulfing them in bubbling meat and turning them against mankind. Gunfire rattled to the air as screaming troopers fell back, fell away from the fence line and

the expanding flesh bit. I belted down a row of tents past the young man with his surface pistol tucked up against his mind. He squeezed the trigger and dropped like a sack of flower. His thoughts and feelings sprang out in a gory fountain. I ran towards my digs, ran for all. I was worth, my breath whipsawing, legs pumping and aching and... Something swept into view ahead of me, and I stumbled to a halt.

My heart was beating against the walls of my ribs, beating and desperate to get out. My stomach knotted up as I stared at the thing blocking my egress. It was 15 feet high, a juggernaut of raw muscle, its head like the top of a tank, a massive meat barrel jutting out from a hexagonal slab of flesh. It's thick, grubby hands culled up into meaty fists. Every muscle and its incredible forms strained out, going tense as it redded its artillery to blow me away in a burning gob of flesh. It's going to turn me into a flesh man, I mused as I stuck my pistol under my chin.

Screw that, I had time to think, before I squeezed the trigger. Click. The safety saved me from blowing out my brains, which was good, because the instant I fingered the trigger, the tank man erupted in a burning welter of flesh. Hot ribbons of meat exploded pell-mell as a grenade went off by its feet, taking him down in a fiery flash. All at once, the screams and cries and tattoos of gunfire was replaced by a deep ringing, like a bell buried deep within my mind had been struck by a sledgehammer. I watched with mounting horror as the splatter remains of the tank man bubbled and reformed, grown into a dozen creatures on either side of me. I found my strength and staggered back, desperate to be away from.

Hands grabbed me from behind, pulling me off down the alley of tents. I looked up, a soldier looked back, a human one, face painted in blood and grime and resolve. He said something to me, something. I didn't hear over the din of Tinnitus the grenade had left echoing through my head. What? I cried. He pointed forward as we stumbled along. Just ahead, I saw a black beast lift off into the sky. A helicopter. This mountain machine gun spitting fire at the earth below. There were two others still anchored to the ground beneath it. They rotors whipping up walls of dust as they prepared to lift off to leave the nightmare behind.

The soldier, whose name I never learned, shoved me into the Black Hawk. My ear is still singing, and now wet, with what could only be blood. He climbed him behind me, shouldering off his M4 carbine as the ground pulled away from us. He socked into the gun to his arm and began firing off tight burst into knots of flesh things, shredding through the ground below. I watched like a person in a movie theatre. My screen, the small sliding door, etched through the belly of the chopper. I watched as desperate men screamed and waved, begging us to return.

I watched as they were devoured by flesh things raging through base camp alpha like a plague. I saw crackles of light as guns went off in futile protest of the war against humanity. Clusters of flames burned bright, sending flocks of sparks floating up into the midnight sky. Men died, bled, screamed. As we drew further away from the earth, I saw that nearly half of the camp was gone, crumpled down into the sunken, living pit of flesh. I sat that way, with my ears ringing and my head pounding,

and watched base cam alpha shrink into the distance. Nothing but the flesh pit behind it as far as the eye could see. And I knew, as I know now, that it would never stop growing. eating. It won't stop until it's replaced the whole world with an ocean of meat. Never leave the line. Something we heard the diving instructor say countless times in our cave diving class.

If you can't see the line that leads back out of the cave, then you're in trouble. My brother had become obsessed with cave diving. What had been a casual hobby had turned into a burning passion for him, and because I was his diving body it didn't take long before I found myself in the cave diving certification class the first time going scuba diving was wonderful

I never had imagined there was an entire intricate world beneath the waves I could have simply done open water diving for the rest of my life and being content but that was not what my brother was like he was always trying to push to try the new exciting challenge and this had gotten us into trouble more than once. That was why I should have known to pump the brakes

when he started talking about cave diving. There is no doubt in my mind that cave diving could be a wonderful, peaceful experience, if done right. But the combination of my brother's ego and the deceptively dangerous pitfalls involved with cave diving should have sent me running for the hills. My brother had spent quite a bit of time searching the different caves, to dive around where we lived.

He kept saying the word siphon over and over, and finally I asked him what it was. Most people cave dive in springs, where the water flows outward, and the current will push you towards the entrance. A siphon, however, is when the water flows into the cave, pulling you away from the entrance.

It seemed like the ultimate test, which was irresistible to my brother, who was in a constant state of having something to prove. That was why, before completing our certification, we had taken off for an underwater cave in Pennsylvania. My brother argued that we had more than enough training, being certified in advanced open water. For some reason, I went along with it. We were headed off to the entrance of an underwater system, referred to as Conkey Hole. My brother had mentioned that it had been part of an old Native American legend back when the Lennopee tribe still lived in these parts.

He said that a young man, after being rejected by his love, dove into the hole, and only a pool of blood came out of the other side, miles away, where the underwater cave system flowed out into a bay. At the time, I had laughed and rolled my eyes. After long car ride, we'd reached the dive site. I was surprised at how deserted it was. It was just a small pond in the middle of Pennsylvania. There was a bed and breakfast in the distance. and a Christmas tree farm, but other than that, it was quiet.

That's it, I said. I was expecting something bigger. There was an entrance somewhere in there, he said. There was a fire in his eyes which was infectious. I was starting to see the appeal of going exploring, but I wondered if we really were prepared. It is well known that only those with proper cave diving certification are allowed to go diving into caves.

we were not yet certified. My brother kept saying that because we were certified for advanced open water diving, we would be fine. I was starting to have second thoughts as we approached this murky pond. We suited up and began the dive. The water was a little cold, but I quickly adjusted and became acclimated to my new surroundings. As I started to look around, my first thought was that there was nothing that interest.

and maybe our trip had been a waste of time. The pond wasn't that big, not more than 50 feet in diameter, and it seemed to be mostly shallow. But as my eyes darted around towards the bottom, I saw what looked like a small fissure. My brother had seen it too, and he immediately started swimming for the entrance. I followed.

Being relatively new, we both had a single tank set up, which only afforded us about 45 minutes of air, The rule was to use a third to explore, a third to get out, and a third just in case of emergencies. That was why we agreed to only be in there for 15 minutes before turning back. We swam closer to the fissure, and I was expecting for it to be more pronounced. It was only a small crack, just big enough to squeeze through. These are known as restrictions, and they've been known to be the end of many a cave diver. Get stuck in an underwater squeeze and you'll run out of air, especially from all the panic breathing which drains your tank.

These restrictions were just the type of thing my brother loved, and he immediately began to wriggle his way into the fissure. He began to kick up the mud that pervaded the bottom of the pond. It was becoming difficult to see him, but after a brief struggle, his body disappeared through the fissure. I was next. I must admit that squeezing my way through the sharp rock surface with sensitive gear that my life depended on was not my idea of a good time. I figured if I could make it through this part, then it might be worth it. I started wiggling my way in.

The rock face on the other side was surprisingly sharp. I shimmied on and noticed the turn. I had to rotate my body around to be able to bend through. I kept forcing my way deeper into the fissure. And sure enough, after a touch... time, I broke into the large chamber. The only light was faint, coming from the tunnel I just passed through. Only a meter into the chamber turned to complete darkness.

I could see my brother there shining his light around. It was truly a wonder to behold. In all directions going out, there was blackness, and who's to say, how far out it went. I immediately understood my people did this. I shine my light around the entrance and along the wall there was mud interspersed with striking orange rocks it felt like being on another planet the light eventually tapered off into the blackness

my brother tied off a line to the rock face and after making sure it was secure started frog kicking along the wall together we started down what seemed to be a large tunnel though we could only see one side occasionally a critter would swim or crawl by and gave me a sense of ease. At least we weren't the only things down here. Something was able to survive.

We moved deeper into the cave, frog kicking, careful not to kick up too much debris, but neither of us was very good at it. Nonetheless, we pressed forward into the large chamber, deeper, farther from the entrance, farther from air. almost at once the mucky orange rocks turned into a pinkish hue as if we had entered what seemed like another biome stalactites by the hundreds eerily coated the ceiling and I gazed with wonder as my light passed over them only for them to once again fall back into the infinite darkness in which they dwelt

I was surprised to see the occasional smaller pale crustacean walking around It seemed like a place so in hospitable to life. Yet, here it was. My brother seemed eager to see walls around the next corner. We were getting deeper, and I looked at my dive computer. We had several minutes left of air, but my brother's kicking made me nervous. He started flutter kicking to get himself deeper. He was starting to kick up all types of debris.

As the cave system went deeper, I could see that it branched off. into several directions. My brother tied off the line he'd been laying as we had been instructed. But before I could catch up to him to signal the frog kick, he was already off again. I love diving,

but my brother has this nasty habit of turning fun things into competitions. This wasn't the first time that I felt as though he was acting dangerously during a dive. I was going to really give it to him when we got out. He continued unrelendingly towards what looked like the next restriction.

He positioned his body and began to shimmy his way into the crack. This was the part that always made me nervous. Many cave divers preferred to use a single mount rig or a rebreather called a sidewinder to be able to fit into tighter spaces. Being relatively new to this, we had tanks mounted on our backs. This made it more difficult to pass through the restrictions. What would happen if you got stuck

and I couldn't pull him out? Going through restrictions while cave diving is very dangerous, yet it allows you to explore a place that may never have been visited by human beings in the entire history of Earth. This enticed me. It was truly the last frontier on this planet. He continued to shimmy deeper and soon his fins fell into darkness. I hovered there in the water for a moment. It can be much more difficult to back out of a restriction than going forward. The last thing you want is to create a traffic jam underwater, with limited air.

Still, as I tread there alone in this underwater chamber, which seemed so isolated, so far removed from the rest of humanity, so far removed from the comforts and distractions of all the daily minuté, which present the illusion that being alive in this world is somehow normal. I began into the restriction. The last thing I wanted to do was have an existential crisis alone in an underwater. water chamber. The rocks were sharp and abraised my suit. I carefully continued to shovel deeper into the squeeze. It was tight. At one point I can only wigger my leg a matter of inches up and down. I wasn't getting used to passing these restrictions. On the other side, I saw my brother again, shining the light around. He had already tied off another line and started swimming out into the chamber. I logged

on my dive computer. We were deeper now, and we would have to turn back soon. We continued on what seemed like an endless maze. It seemed to be a large tunnel carved by an underwater stream over millennia. There were massive boulders that we began to weave through. It was magnificent. The water in this chamber was pristine, and had yet to be mucked up by a kicking. Yet, as I looked around, I noticed that the silt we were kicking up seemed to be drifting. It seemed that we had entered a small current. I knew he was time to call the dive, but in the distance, we both saw something large, but very faint as a light didn't reach that far. I was just as mesmerized by the objects in the distance as my brother, and we kept drifting forward. It was then that my brother

ran out of line. He swam to the bottom and tied off a line and looked to me, wondering whether or not I would tie a new line off. I shook my head and tapped my computer, signaling to him that we didn't have time to go deeper. His head pivoted back to the object, and he strained to see it, stretching his light hand as far as it would go. He looked back at me and signaled to continue forward, and without any confirmation, he swam out. Never leave the line. I scrambled to tie off my bright orange line to a small outcrop at the floor as fast as I could. What an imbecile.

I finished tying off a sloppy bowline nut and took off after him. My light found him still kicking towards the object. Thank God I could still see him. I kicked harder to catch up. Then, all at once, he stopped dead. His body began to slowly sink to the bottom. as he remained perfectly still. That was when I finally got close enough

to see what it was. Through the darkness, the large object was still hard to make out. The borders were hard to discern, but over the next couple of seconds, my brain put the pieces together and I lurched backwards, as if overtaken by some old mammalian defense mechanism,

there was some kind of crustacean, or at least the lifeless shell of one that had malted. What was truly horrifying was the size of the shell. It must have been the size of a car. It seemed to have horridly longed antennae, and there seemed to be the scant remains of the only remnants of what must have been an enormous claw. It seemed to be some kind of freely large cross

between a giant prawn and a lobster, only long and streamlined, so as the fit through the restrictions as we did. I shuddered as I wondered whether or not this cave system had been dug out by some horrid monster, and whether or not we had intruded upon its lair. Who knows what type of prehistoric creatures lay in the depths of the earth? It was hard to make out its shape as it was just a discarded shell,

and it seemed to be only a piece. My brother swam closer, and I followed. He seemed to have figured out that it was just the shell as well. hovering over it, we looked at each other. I thumbed the dive, the dive signed to head to the surface. To my relief, he nodded, and we began to swim back. Suddenly, I felt the line go slack. The only thing this could mean is that my knot had come undone.

My brother noticed this and we looked at each other once more, this time in horror. I tried to remain calm and think of what to do. My brother started desperately flutter kicking his way back towards where we had come from, but as I looked around with my light, there seemed to be a hundred different ways to go. Still, we had tied off another line relatively close by. We just had to remain calm and work our way back. I was happy that I still had two-thirds of my oxygen left. My brother was moving fast, and I was having a tough time keeping up.

The harder I kicked, the more carbon dioxide. side was building up in my body. I knew that I should slow down and breathe, but my brother seemed to be swimming faster still. He seemed to be desperately looking for the other line. I could feel my head start to swim, and I knew that if I kept pushing myself, I would pass out.

I slowed down and kept my light on my brother's fins as they became fainter and fainter. I tried yelling through my regulator, but it was too late. He was out of sight. There I was, drifting helplessly. My line dangled there, limp in the water. I remembered what the cave diving instructor said.

It is panic that kills people. I had to remain calm. I floated there for several seconds, just calming myself down. My breath started normalising and I started to gather my wits. I had to figure this out. I had to swim towards where I thought my lion had come from. The thing was, I'd given the same. slight current, where my line had come from, might not be right. Still, I had little choice.

I kicked back in the direction I came from, straining my eyes for a sign of my brother. I continued onward, checking my dive computer. I still had time. My light traced all of the walls, and I tried to make a mental note of any anomaly, anything that stood out, but everything seemed the same. Underwater rock faces that seemed to looked just like the last. I continued out into the blackness. I could feel myself starting to panic again. I just had to find the other line.

My heart soared as I noticed the other line from a distance. I swam towards it and gently held it. My brother had found it. He may have been causing it to move, yet the line remained limp. I searched all around, but it was nowhere. I knew I was going to have to make a decision soon of where. whether to look for him or leave him and get help. Something inside told me that if I went to get help, it would turn into a body recovery.

It is all well and good when death takes someone you don't know, but at the prospect of losing someone you have known your whole life and care deeply about, it becomes very real. I knew I had to go back to look for him. I knew that I had to use my reserve air to search for him, even though it would likely mean that I would die too. Still, leaving your brother to die Isn't a choice you can make

I reeled in my line And went to tide off again When I noticed another line Had been tied off some meters away I hadn't noticed it before As it was blocked by a rock on the way in I quickly swam over and inspected it The first thing that stood out to me

Was how old it was It looked like it had been laid decades ago I didn't have time to think too much about it. The line led off into the blackness, and I could only wonder where it went. The line moved the tiniest amount. I grasped it gingerly with my hand. Sure enough, there was something on the line. I started to swim along its trail, always searching all around me for my brother. Eventually, the line led to a hole in the bottom of the chamber. As I approached it, I could feel the current start to pick up, and I realized water was pouring into the water.

this hole, and if I wasn't careful, it would take me in. That was when I noticed something poking out of the lip of the hole. It was my brother's hand. He was there, hanging on desperately, trying to get out of the hole. My instincts told me to reach out for him, but I knew that I would share his fate, and we would both perish. I was his only hope. I had to use my head.

My heart was pounding, and I started breathing faster. No doubt this would be using up much more air than I could afford. Still, if I was able to free him, we were both likely get out of this unscathed. Maybe he would even have finally had his fill of thrill-seeking. I reeled in my line and tied it off thoroughly to a nearby rock. I made sure that it was right. I then began inching towards the hole backwards, keeping my hands on both the old line and my new line. My brother's hand remained clenched, like his life depended on it.

because it did. I continued to back up, over his hand. I could feel my legs being pulled into the hole with a much greater force than I anticipated. Just as I expected, my brother's other hand swung around from my thigh and latched on. The moment had come. I began to pull.

It was work. Together we started to ascend out of the sump. Just then, I felt the old line break. All in a second, both me and my brother were hanging from one hand. I let go of the old line and started to pull my way up with a line with both hands. It was working. I continued to inch out, little by little. I was hyper-focused, just looking at my hands.

I was so fixated, I didn't notice that something else had entered the chamber. I didn't notice until it was too late. To my horror, the line went slack again. My eyes darted up in disbelief. Barely visible in the darkness was a gigantic white claw. I only saw it for a split second as my brother and I went tumbling down the sun pole. The currents were strong and we were pulled along into a larger, wider chamber. The current in this tunnel was even stronger and we tumbled along like debris caught in a river.

In fact, that is what we were. we were stuck in an underwater channel being swept downstream. There was no way out now. Even if we managed to stop, it would be impossible to fight the current this strong. I tried to look at my dive computer, but I was still spinning around uncontrollably. Occasionally, I'll be thrust into a wall. On the third or fourth time, the light strapped to my hand, struggle rock, and the light went dead. Together, almost at once, we were swept.

out of the tunnel and into a free fall. It was hard to say how far we went. It felt like hundreds of feet, but in reality it was probably more like 40. Upon landing, the water crashed on top of me and pushed me down further. I kicked out and started swimming for the surface in the direction I hoped it was.

It was hard to tell in the complete darkness. Breaking the surface was a great feeling. I treaded there for a moment, before I carefully withdrew my backup light from a secure pocket. I turned up my light and looked around. I never knew such large chambers could exist under the surface of the earth. It must have been the size of a gymnasium. I saw a pile of rocks in a far corner and swam for them.

At least I could rest while I thought about what to do. I swam for the rocks, having no idea how deep the water blowing me was. I tried not to think of the creatures that would be lurking below my feet. Thoughts began to race through my head as I climbed out of the water. Was that really a claw I saw? How did it know to cut the line? If the claw was that big, how big was the creature it belonged to? How could a creature that size live in such a place?

I swept the water with my light, hoping to see any sign of my brother. I... I was alone. I finally looked at my dive computer. I was surprised to see that I was surprised to see that it. still had a third of the tank left. There was no way that I would be able to get back out the way I came, but at least I was in a large chamber with breathable air.

You never know how much oxygen is in these isolated chambers underground, but I still felt fine, and I figured it was better to save the oxygen in the tank for when I would need it, though I knew my chances were slim. It was hard not to fixate on the fact that I was trapped, and likely dead. all I could do was distract myself and try to break the problem down. I still had yet to see any signs of my brother.

I scanned the water's surface with my light. I knew I couldn't weigh much longer. I had to go in and look for him. What if he was trapped from running out of air? I was almost certain he had tumbled down the drop into this chamber. I shined the light near the base of the waterfall. There was nothing except the constant rush of water. water. I put my mask back on and walked with my fins back to the water's edge and waded in.

I broke the surface and started scanning around with my light. Chamber was enormous above the surface, but below it was even more vast. For as far as my light could see were rooms within rooms. Thresholds which split off into what looked like hundreds of other passages. Indeed, were enough for the horrifying trip to get here. This would have been a can cave divers paradise. This was an entire unexplored world, something coveted by cave divers alike. There were several piles of large rocks underneath the base of the waterfall.

I explored this further ahead, though keeping a cautious distance. My brother was nowhere to be found. It was starting to feel hopeless, but I just concentrated on the task at hand. I had to find my brother as fast as I could, without panicking or over a exerting myself. As time went on, it became more difficult to stave off the panic. I was breathing too fast, and I knew that I was going to run out of air soon. I knew that if I wanted to make a real play to escape this place, I would need every second I had left. My only hope was the final way out for the oxygen I had, and if that failed, hungered down and hope that someone found me

in that godforsaken chamber. My eyes frantically darted around. sweeping the different cave formations and tunnel entrances. Something caught my eye leading into one of the tunnels. A bunch of debris and silt had been kicked up, and it seemed to lead into the tunnel. It was only some 30 feet away, and though I knew this may be my last foray into the water I may have, I knew that it was my best hope. I kicked over and started into the tunnel. Visibility was poor, and the tunnel broke off into many different directions.

but the trail was clear. I simply had to follow the trail of silt that had been kicked up by. What I was praying for was my brother. I came out into a large chamber covered by the floor and ceiling with stalactites and stalagmites. I remember learning that if an underwater cave had these, then at some point it had been a dry cave. This did little to mitigate the panic that was creeping up more and more every kick forward. I had abandoned the cave for.

diving rules at this point. I had forgotten about running the line altogether. I suppose it was irrelevant where my corpse would end up. I started to lose control on my breathing. It was getting faster and faster, as if it truly started to sink in how doomed I was. I stopped myself and sank to the bottom of the cave floor. Just breathe, I thought to myself. The diving instructors couldn't have made it more clear to me during the hours upon hours of training I had had in my life. If you panic, it's over. I stood there at the bottom and took a moment to simply calm down. Afterwards, I regained my composure and opened my eyes.

Sometimes it is when we aren't looking for something that we find it. And no matter how hard we look, we can never seem to find our glasses that we were wearing in the first place. If I hadn't stopped looking, I certainly wouldn't have noticed it glimmering there. It was my brother's light. One of the rules of cave diving is to have at least three lights. If your first one dies, you have a backup. If you drop you second, you have a third. Many cave divers take four lights.

Knowing my brother, he hopefully had two. But seeing as I didn't see one on him when he went tumbling into the sump, it was possible that this was his second and last light. Without the case, it was likely he was still. feeling around blind. The thought of my brother panicking on his last breath spurned me, and I set out again with figure. The trail of debris has subsided, and at this point I was flying blind.

I had no idea where he might be in this maze. I knew I was nearing my limit, and if I wanted to make it back to the chamber with air, I would have to turn back. I chose to continue. The likelihood that I would be found in the coming days were slim at best, And I knew it. On the other hand, what if my brother was stuck, or worse? After choosing to continue, around the next corner I shine my light around and saw my brother kicking towards me.

But what was the biggest feeling of relief I had ever felt in my life turned to fear as I noticed he was shrieking through his regulator. He grabbed me and pulled me back the way I'd come. I then looked beyond him. and my heart sank. I was overwhelmed with the impulse to flee, and did so as fast as I could, because my brother was being tailed by two enormous prawns. They must have been as long as a car,

and they were gaining fast. My instincts took over at this point. It was more reflex than anything else. We kicked hard away from those creatures. My shiver ran at my spine, as I thought of the long, pale, lops-like bodies crawling along the walls of the cave, almost like a centipede.

I knew that if they caught us, that we would be eaten alive. Suddenly, the prospect of running out of air seemed almost trivial, as if it would have been a natural conclusion to our lives. There was nothing horrid or brutal about it. I wasn't going to die in that hellhole, and neither was my brother.

We would fight. He was ahead of me, but, being guided by my light, as it was clear he had left. lost his. We rounded the corner into the room full of stalactites and back out into the larger tunnel. I dared not look behind me. I pointed my light around the corner, but there, down the tunnel were three more giant prawns. The horrible pale bodies clawed towards us. A terrible loud shriek came from behind us, almost as if the prawns were communicating. We were cut off.

our only hope It was the delve deeper This next stretch Was the time that seemed to last forever It was simple It was one goal Stay ahead of the prawns Around another corner

And into a vertical shaft It got smaller And as it did I could start to feel a current Pulling us deeper We came to a restriction And I flashed my light back And saw the prawns tearing towards us

This was it. My brother and I started desperately squeezing ourselves into the restriction, forcing our way in as fast as we could. We felt like getting out of the water with a sharp nipping at your heels. Sure enough, as if things couldn't get any worse, we both became wedged. My brother pointed to his tank, and I knew what he meant. We had to ditch the tanks to fit. Together we unclasped and I was surprised to see that it worked.

He managed to pull his through, but mine was stuck, and I mean stuck. I ripped at it, but soon the prawns were on it, though the hole was too small for them to squeeze through. To our horror, they started digging. It suddenly became clear these creatures had built this lair. My brother signalled for me to let it go, and we would body breathe, sharing what was left of his tank. We let go and began drifting together in the current. It seemed even stronger than before. We continued body breathing, though I could see the tank was empty.

Breathing started to become more difficult as we exchanged glances. He took a long deep breath and handed me the regulator, indicating I do the same. Together we tumbled down this underwater chamber on our last breath. The tank had run out. We ditched it to the bottom of the floor. At least, maybe in the next couple hundred years, this cave system might be matte and we might be found, and at least our fates will be known.

It was strange, but there was some comfort in this. Everything started to become cloudy as the carbon dioxide started to build up in our bodies. My brain started to desperately cry out for air after only about 30 seconds. A headache started to creep in. The current carried us around another corner, and I couldn't believe what I saw.

It was light. It was a light at the end of the tunnel. I thought about where I was, in some underground chamber below the earth, below the surface, soon about to have drowned. How could I guess that what they said about seeing a light at the end of the tunnel

would be so literal? Though, as I tumbled closer, the details became clearer. It looked so real. That was when I noticed that the ceiling had changed. There were air bubbles around the top. Then there were large pockets, then there it was, the surface.

Together we swam up and breathed. How foolish it is to not appreciate something so wonderful as air. We filled our lungs as the current brought us the rest of the way and turned us out in the cave system altogether into a larger body of water. The sun was shining over what seemed to be a large, desolate lake. I can't remember if my brother started it or I did. But once we were out of the water, we both started laughing hysterically. Neither of us took her eyes off the water out of fear that those monsters would have somehow wriggled their way out of their underground lair.

It is often said that the earth has been mapped. But I can tell you from my own personal experience that there is still so much we don't know about our planet. There are still many forgotten nuts and crannies that lay in the depths. and maybe. They are better left, alone. County, calling Unit 4? My radio chirped. 4, I responded.

Unit 4. Respond Code 2 to a one-car motor vehicle accident. Old Route 33 in the area of Mile Marker 44. Call a state he hit a deer. Vehicle, inoperable. I sighed and put down my phone, putting my Chevy Tower in gear, and gently pulling out of the parking lot I was comfortably sitting in. Unit 4 copies, responding, I said into the radio, putting it back into its holder.

Roger Unit 4, Time of Dispatch, 0239. Working third shift has its perks. Slow nights, not much to do, especially in a rural county here in Montana, where the only crimes seem to be boredom. Having been born and raised here, I knew this area like the back of my hand. I could navigate it in the dark. Hell, blindfolded, and I could tell you exactly where I was solely from the ground I was standing on. Not much really happened of no tear. The people kept to themselves.

They were friendly, humble and kind. Some people worked in the city close by, but most worked in their farms. They were hunters, homebodies, people preferred by their own solitude, rather than the hustle and bustle of bigger cities and towns. The county I worked in as a deputy sheriff was large. so large in fact that it took over an hour just to get from one side of my patrol route to the other it didn't bother me

and since most people here owned firearms break-ins and property crimes were seldom our job was mostly to wrangle up the trunks at closing time and chase the cow that always seemed to wander out of their pastures tonight seemed to be no different a passing motorist hit a deer quite common really especially with a large amount of space between houses and people

animals pretty much had free roam with the place. But I come to learn quickly. Tonight wasn't like most nights. Tonight would show me that solitude, while often brings peace, can also bring horrors untold. The red and blue lights of my tower pierced through the moonlit sky

while the terrain changed from asphalt to gravel and dirt. Old Route 33 was never paved. The county maintained it, but decided to keep the tradition of dirt, same as how our settlers traveled back in the day, day. The bumpy road shoveled me in my seat, making me groaned with each bump.

I passed mile marker 6. I still had a long way to go before reaching the motorist. Reaching for the stereo, I winced as the usual station I listened to was only an ear-piercing static. Weird, I thought to myself, reception

usually stays until at least marker 20. I thought nothing of it, turning off the radio, and instead listening to the gravel and dirt pushed from underneath my tires. The headlights of the SUV pushed far ahead, along with the flashing lights on the roof of my patrol car, giving me a clear view of what was ahead.

I didn't go too fast. I mean, after all, how far could an inoperable car really go? It'd still be there when I got there. Besides, the last thing I need is to hit an animal and ruin my car trying to get to him in the first place. I sighed and leaned back in my seat, wishing that morning would come and I could fall asleep. The miles kept coming, passing Marlmarker 17, not even halfway there.

If it weren't for the constant shaking and rumbling of the loose stone and rocks beneath a car, I'd have easily drifted off. The road, straight as an arrow, kept going, and going. And going? Wait, since when was that tree on the side of the road, I asked myself. A white bird's tree, beautiful and standing tall, was always on the west side of the road. It was one of the few trees on this road. But tonight, it was on the east.

I slowed my cruiser to a stop, checking the GPS on the windshield. Oh, I'm heading southbound, I softly said to myself. That tree was never on that side. I sat there, looking at the tree. It was the same one I had my first kiss under. It was a same tree I lost my virginity under. But why was it there? Huh.

Must be the lack of sleep. I chuckled to myself, pushing down the accelerator slightly. Although I played it off as nothing, the thoughts still creaked into my head. Why was that there? There were very few trees on this road. Hell, it was known as the rolling road for a reason. You could see for miles an end on either side. Not an obstruction in sight.

The road continued on, the light still shining in front of me. I chuckled. I really need to get on a decent sleep schedule, I said to myself, shaking my head to keep the sleep away. I passed mile marker 15. Wait, that can't be right. I just passed 19, I said to myself, stopping my cruiser and backing up. The sign said mile marker 20. To hell, I whispered to myself.

I put my cruiser back in drive and pulled forward, shaking my head once more at what I saw, or at least what I thought I saw. I was getting worried. I knew working the hours I did would at some point start taking a toll on me. But why now? I've been working third shift for over three years. I've kept myself caffeinated. There was no reason my brain would fog twice like that in one night. I looked at the clock on the dashboard.

3.03. I still had three hours left in my shift, and I knew that as soon as I got home, I'd be sleeping. Malmarked 22. All right, halfway there, I whispered to myself. Generally, I was a pretty stoke man. Growing up in a military family meant fear wasn't really an option. Emotions weren't either. So, when I was scared, it was answered with anger and disapproval.

sighing I kept trudging down the road, keeping tabs on the miles ahead, hoping the time would pass faster to clear this call and to get the hell of this road and into bed. Another mile marker sign was coming up. 29. I was getting closer, thankfully. But it didn't read Marmarker 29. Rather, it was missing. The stump of the missing sign was there. The pole still stood, but the sign was missing.

I poured my cruiser to a stop and got out, shining my flashlight on it. Unit 4, calling County, I said with a sigh. There was no answer, which was weird. Each patrol car had a radio repeater in it, which made sure we could always be in contact with dispatch. I checked my radio. It was on. The channel was right. There's no reason I shouldn't be hearing back.

Unit 4 calling County, I said again. this time in a more aggressive tone. No response once more. I pulled out my phone, but saw there was no self-service. Again, this was weird, since there were towers sporadic through the fields, making sure people had contact, even in the most desolate locations here. Nevertheless, I took a picture of the sign, making a note in the phone to call public works and let them know one of the signs was gone.

Probably some kids, I thought to myself. I looked at the photo, making sure it wasn't blurry or anything, but something caught my eye. Two gloon orbs were seen in the far back of the photo. I was shaking and lifting my flashlight to where the orbs were in the photo. My flashlight was powerful, shining far into the darkened night, far into the field. But I saw nothing. It was empty. And that's another thing.

It was quiet, very, very quiet. Even at night, you could hear the crickets, the low murmur of a resting animal, even the soft shuffle of an insect's movement. It was that quiet. Tonight, the only sound was the low hum of the idling engine. I looked at the photo once more and back into the field. Maybe it was just a reflection. Maybe the science holes produced those from the flash, I reasoned with myself.

surely there was an explanation. I didn't want to stay longer than I had to. I got back into my cruiser and tried the police radio once more. Unit 4 calling County, I said nervously. I heard a crackle, better than nothing, but still no response came from the dispatchers. I switched the channel to the one that the state police used. They had a barracks in our county. They helped us on calls from time to time.

Deputy Steele calling State Police, any trooper on the air? I said into the radio. No response. An eerie silence once more filled the car. That's not right, I said. They were checking to make sure I had the right channel. I did, and yet no one answered. Now I was scared, but I still had a call to respond to.

Putting it back in drive, I kept moving down the road. road, dread-filling me as I drove further away from civilization. Mile marker 33, 34, 35. I was making good progress and everything was normal. I chuckled to myself, knowing I was working myself up for nothing. At night, people get scared. People fear the dark. You can't blame them for that.

See, I was told it wasn't the dark we fear, rather what could be in the dark. but with two bright headlights and enough emergency lights to rival 30 Christmas trees, darkness was no match. And yet, why could I barely see the road in front of me? The previous Marlmarker signs came from what seemed like nowhere, whereas they should have been illuminated pretty far away from my headlights, even at a good distance. I came up on Mile Marker 36,

the sign, like the previous, appearing from what seemed like nowhere. But what caught me off guard this time was a crudely painted 66 right after the first one. I stopped my cruiser and got out, sighing. Damn kids, a funny devil number, I said to myself. I snapped another photo of the sign. Do I dare look at it? Do another set of orbs await me? I needed to make sure it was a good photo for my reports.

Thankfully, no mysterious balls of light greeted me. from the screen. I sighed and put my phone back in my uniform pocket, looking at the vandalized sign. I crouched down, looking at the crudely spray-painted sign. Wait, that's not spray paint, I said, looking closer at it. Was that? Blood. Spray paint isn't that thick, it isn't that drippy, unless it was fresh.

I reached out of finger daringly. and touched it. It didn't smell like paint. No, it smelled of iron. Unit 4 calling County, requesting assistance, I said, nervously, begging, no, praying for an answer. Alas, none would come, and I was met with yet again the silence of the night. The temperature was dropping rapidly,

and even though this was quite possibly a crime scene, I had to reach that stranded motorist. if his car truly wasn't working, he could get hypothermia in there. I looked at my watch, making sure to note the time for the report. 3.03? That can't be, I said to myself, completely befuddled that no time had passed. I had crossed miles of land, miles that should have taken me at least 15 minutes to get to where I was when I last check the time. I shook my watch, tapping on the screen.

the time didn't change. My phone said the same, 303. I stood up and quickly walked back to the patrol car, getting in and shutting the door. The dashboard clock said the same. 303. Slamming the cruiser in gear, I floored the pedal, the roar of the engine shredding the otherwise quiet road.

I had to make it to the motorist. I had to get the hell out of here. I wasn't sleepy anymore. Adrenaline pumped through my body. and fear riddle my bones. Darkness, silence, fear. Three perfect ingredients for a horror movie. And yet, this was real.

It was raw, and it was happening to me. The mile signsfully by me. 37, 38, 39, 40. I was at 40, and I only had four more miles to go. At 60 miles per hour, even though the road wasn't suited for this speed, would let me reach the car in four minutes. That's all I needed before seeing another human. Four minutes.

I let out a sigh of relief. I could do this. I was close. I was going to make it. Through the darkness came a shape. A shape that was in the middle of the road. I slammed on my brakes. The wheel was hurling gravel and dirt all around me

while the figure came into view. My breath was arithmetic, chest tight and high. heart pounding. A deer. A damn deer. I laughed to myself, taking a deep inhale. Damn, I laughed, running my hand through my hair. She scared me. The deer was facing me. His tall antlers reflecting slightly against the headlights and emergency lights on my patrol car. I blinked the siren, and yet he didn't move. He kept staring straight at me, not moving. Come on, buddy, I said, turning on the siren for a few seconds. Again, he didn't move, staying still.

Literally a deer in headlights, I laughed, putting the cruise in park and getting out. Come on, buddy, mush, go, I bellowed. He didn't move, nor did his eyes. I was a hunter. I've known plenty of deer that can spot a human hundreds of feet away. the slightest sound could scare them off, yet the siren, nor my yelling, scared him. I took two steps forward, hand on my pistol, getting closer to it. Buddy, hey, I whispered to it, making a click noise with my tongue to try to get his attention.

The deer stayed, staring at my headlights, unmoving, and shaken. Stepping heel to toe, making as little noise as possible, I approached the animal. I was mere feet from it, and yet he didn't move. I reached out and touched it. Cold, very cold. Fur was warm. Even after it's dead, the fur is always warm. I reached the padded side, get it to move away.

With an open hand, I gently patted the side of the deer. Go, I bellowed. He didn't move. He fell out. over, stiff as a board, bouncing a bit as he hit the ground. He was dead. Shaking, panting, I stepped backwards, shaking my head. The hell is going on? I asked myself loudly, looking around me. I looked up and knew I had to go.

The moon and stars that filled the night sky were gone. It was black, like the moon was never a thing, like stars ceased to shine. This wasn't normal. It was a clear night only an hour ago, and the forecast was supposed to be clear. I took another look at the deer, still laying lifeless on the ground in front of my patrol car. With a shaky hand, I opened the door to my police car, getting back in and shutting the door. Slimbing it back and drive, I floored it, moving around a dead deer and racing down the road. There has to be an explanation for that, I thought to myself.

He couldn't have just died right there. My thoughts were racing, desperate to come up with a reason why a deer would have died standing up in the middle of the road. 41. Okay, I'm getting closer. Three more, three more. I panted to myself, stealing myself to reality. Come on, man up. I shook myself, get myself back into it, shaking away the fear and worry from inside,

pacing my breathing to get it normal again. Sighing in relief, I pushed my head against the headrest, still looking out to. ahead. Get a damn grip, I whispered to myself, slamming the palm of my hand on the steering wheel. Speeding down the bumpy road, I got closer and closer. The mile marker signs growing in number. Mile marker 44. I was there. Still, I saw no car, no flashing lights, no sign of an accident. I slow my speed and reached for the radio. Unit 4 calling County, I said into the radio. Not to my surprise, there was no answer. Figuring I should keep talking, maybe for my own sanity, or maybe someone could hear me, and I just couldn't hear them. Unit 4 calling County,

show me in the area of the accident, searching at this time. I put the radio back into its holder, shining the spotlight into the darkness around me, looking to see if the car veered off the road. Other than pitch black, there was nothing. No vehicle, no dead. No. No dead. animal, just pitch black. The SUV kept moving forward, although slow, fast enough to drive find this motorist. I wasn't sure

if I was more excited to be done with this call, or just to know other humans are actually real. With the events transpired so far, I was skeptical. More dirt, more darkness and more fear. I had to be getting close now.

The next mile mark a sign had to be coming. I shine the spot. light ahead of me. And finally, I found it. One car, hazard lights on the rear, brake lights shining. I could almost cry. I was so happy to have finally found it, but alone finding another human. Unit 4 calling County, code 6 with the vehicle, I said, into the radio. Why bother? I thought to myself, they ain't responding to you. No response, but no bother. I put the cruiser. I put the cruiser. in park and got out. I shout my flashlight at the car, stepping quietly and slowly towards it. Light grey smoke billowed from the engine block, damaged from the stuck animal.

Sheriff's department, I bellowed. I stepped closer, moving my hand to my holster, pushing down the hood and putting my thumb on the release. Sheriff's department, I bellowed again. I stepped closer, shining my flashlight into the car. There was a man laying in the front seat, head rolling. back against the headrest. Sir, sir, do you need help? I asked, taking my hand off the gun and rushing to the driver's side door. I kept my flashlight shined on him,

noting his eyes were clenched shut. I took a good look at the man. His face was covered in blood, his hands too. My breathing turned rapid again, taking my eyes off of him for a second to look at the front of the car. There was no deer,

but damn was there a lot of blood. too much blood for any animal to survive. I wanted to take a closer look, but was startled by the men in the front seat. I snapped back to him, shining the flashlight at him. Sir, and with the sheriff's department, are you all right? I asked him, leaning down. The man's eyes snapped open. And I gasp.

There was no pupil, no iris, white like the moon that still didn't shine. A bloody hand opened the door, nail. scratching against the plastic of the handle. Taking a step back, my hand found the holster again, thumbing at the release. Sir, I think you need an ambulance, I said, trying to keep composed.

The door swung open, and I gulped. The hand that opened the door was frail, white like a ghost. The nails were longer than daggers, pointed at the end and covered in blood. I brought the light back up to the man as he stepped out,

growing and growing and growing, He towed over me, at least seven feet tall. The flashlight illuminated his body. Tattered clothes, staining blood, and other substances I prayed weren't human. His legs shook like a newborn deer, covered only by jeans that didn't fit, standing barefoot in front of me. I took another step back, hand on my gun and another on the light. Hey, you've been in an accident. Think you need to sit down, I said. His head snapped left, right, up and down, almost inhuman in how fast he made them.

His neck snapped at me. The soulless eyes somehow pierced through me, shaking me to my core. Sir? I stammered. Then. He smiled. The teeth weren't human. They were sharp, sharp like a shark teeth.

They weren't neatly in rows, nor did they have any sense. semblance of structure, and by God, stain in blood and what looked to be bone and muscle. What the hell? I whispered to myself. He took a step forward, and I took a step back, stumbling but holding myself. Stop, I beckoned, ordering him, although my voice faltered. The man, dare I say man, but the man stopped and looked at me with his white eyes. He opened his mouth, and it unhinged like a snake, rows and rows of more bloodstained teeth shine through my light and a howl of ungodly noise pierced to the night.

The thing brought his head back and cried out louder, making a noise I've never heard before. I took another step back and fell over, landing hard on my back. The thing's head snapped down to me, an evil grin spreading across his mouth that was way too big for his face. One step, two steps, three steps. Stop! loudly. Four steps. He was getting closer. Stop! I bellowed again. But he didn't. It didn't.

I enholstered my handgun and pointed it at him. He didn't stop. I know he saw my gun. He had to have. Most people will stop at the sight of a gun. But he, it, whatever the damn thing was, didn't. The thing just took another step toward me. The cracking of its bones and body made me shiver in terror. My clock was shaking my hand, finger resting on the trigger card. I will shoot. Stop where you are, I bellowed, getting up on one knee. Once more, the man rolled his head back, letting out another guitar or scream, making my head hurt and my ears ring. The neck of the man snapped back down, an unholy noise came through as his eyes locked onto mine.

One step, this time faster, closing the day. distance. I put my finger on the trigger and squeezed. The gunshot echoed through the night, the sharp recoil stinging my cold hand and the hot shell bounce off the ground next to me. I saw it hit in centre mass, and yet he only stumbled. He took two steps back, and he chuckled. The damn thing chuckled. I stood up now, knowing I had distance, and tried to backpedal towards my car. Another noise from him, and those teeth. God, those teeth.

He was now in a full sprint. I squeezed the trigger again, dropping my flashlight to get a better grip on my gun, opting to turn on the flashlight mounted on it. Three, four, five gunshots, all sent a mass on him, and he only laughed and screamed in that noise that made my blood turn. cold. The man stumbled back, looking down at his chest. There was no blood from where I shot him. I could see the holes. I could see where my rounds landed. And yet, he didn't bleed. Screw this, I whispered to myself, finally making it back to the hood of my police car. I leaned against

the ram bar while the man charged me again, not stopping, only lolling his head back and forth, letting out another screech. With ringing ears and two steady hands, I fired again. again and again and again, pushing him back with each round that hit his torso. The gun snapped back and I pulled the trigger again, but nothing came out. A quick look over my gun determined I fired the entire magazine, all 18 rounds, and yet he didn't go down. He still stood there, flashing those razor sharp and blood-covered teeth. I dropped the magazine, quickly slapping in a new one and releasing the slide, backpedaling towards my cruiser and getting in. slamming the door shut, I put the cruise in reverse,

not daring take my eyes off whatever the hell was in front of me. Even through the roar of the engine, the man's screams pierced through, making me wince and shut my eyes to try dull the sound. Dirt kicked up from my cruiser, clouded the sight of him, using this time to spin the cruiser round and floor the pedal, not caring for the damage I was doing to the car. I kept looking in my rear view,

and the only thing I saw was a cloud of dust, and the emergency lights reflecting on. off of it. The cruiser buckled and shook, making noises I knew weren't good for it, but I knew I had to get the hell out of there. Marlmarker 45. No, no, I turned my car around. Those numbers shouldn't be going up. They should be going down. Mal marker 466666. I was shaking, panting, terrified like I've never felt before, punishing the cruiser as I sped through the night, The mirror showed nothing, only dust. I had to have lost it by now.

I had to have. Mile marker, hell. Tears clouded my vision. I wiped them away quickly, trying to keep my eyes on the road. The GPS showed I was going northbound. I was going the right way to go home. And yet the landscape proved otherwise. Mile marker, 40.

I was going the right way. I sighed in relief. But I didn't dare to slow my pace, keeping the pedal flawed and the engine roaring. The dead deer was gone. Nowhere to be seen where it laid when I came by earlier. I know that it was the spot. And yet, it's as if the deer had simply got up and left right after I did. Shaking my head and wiping more tears, I kept moving, passing mile markers that finally showed the right numbers.

Mile marker 30. I was getting closer. free from whatever the hell I just wandered into. The hell, the hell, I bellowed, slamming my palm onto the steering wheel. My watch lit up. It was still 303. Sobbing and shaking, I kept going, keeping my handgun on the passenger seat for easy access. God forbid that thing appeared again.

There, there was a tree, the tree from earlier, and now it was... On the right side of the road? How did it just move like that? That was on the other side of the road. It can't be. Pull it together, steel. Pull it together, I said to myself. Do my best to calm down while the road kept going on and on in front of me.

Light. I saw a light. A quick peek through the windshield showed the moon and stars, shining bright like they were before. I was getting closer to the main road. I just... I had to make it. The SUV buckled under the dip in the road.

road, items thrown all over the cabin as the car lurched back but kept steady. Here we go, here we go, we got this, I whispered to myself, reassuring myself that I'd seen the end of this. There it was, the asphalt road, the old sign that showed old Route 33. I made it, and as soon as the tires connected to the asphalt, I didn't dare look back, the same as I didn't dare to let my foot of the accelerator. Cars passed by, pulling over from. my red and blue lights while I sped down the road.

I let out a shaky breath, pulling into a gas station and shutting off the lights. Pulling around back, I put my car in park, crying tears of pain and joy, knowing I made it back to safety. County calling Unit 4, the radio called out. I sniffled, so happy to hear the voice again. Any voice really. Go... Go ahead, I stammered through tears.

Unit 4. Disregard the stranded motorist. Caller states. He's got the car running and he's all set. No officers needed. I didn't dare question it. I didn't care to look into it. Unit 4. Copy. I said through panting breaths. Copy. Showing you code 4. Time of call termination. 0303. I looked at the clock. It was actually 303 in the morning.

My eyes never faltered from the time. o'clock, staring in fear until it turned. Three. Oh, four. I sighed and put my head against the headrest. I made it. I made it out. I went home.

I called out for the rest of the night, saying I was sick and needed to lie down. I went home and slept, pretending that it was all a bad dream. But I promise you, it wasn't a bad dream. It was real. The bullets fired for my gun were real. The dirt and mud caked on my patrol car is real. I think... I think I may have accidentally stumbled

onto the gateway to hell. I don't know how else to describe the events that occurred or how the time just didn't seem to change until I was free of that god-forsaken road. A final note to you all, having survived what I did. If you ever find yourself from Montana Don't break down on old Route 33.